When You Love Someone
by PasiondeZV
Summary: Troy Bolton is living the American Dream. He has the perfect life: A loving wife and daughter, a beautiful home in the suburbs and a successful career. He has it all. Naturally, one would assume that he wouldn't dare mess with perfection. But he will soon learn that lack of self-control, hedonism, aggression and a destructive ego will cause him to lose everything he once loved.
1. Anything

**Welcome to my new story readers! I've been out of commission for a while but I'm excited to be back home and continuing my love of writing. I'd like to introduce you to my latest work. This is something I've had no former experience in writing, so I hope you like it. Please enjoy and let me know if I should continue :} **

**When You Love Someone**

**Chapter 1: Anything**

**Leah**

For the second time that day, she collapsed against the stark white wall cowering in fear.

There was nothing I could do but sit and watch as she braced for another onslaught of savage blows.

Her desperate cries for help were powerless against the drunken wrath of her husband. Once the harsh beating was over, she crumbled to the floor in a battered heap before her body fell still.

Too still.

My thumping heartbeats ceased for a moment as I held out the slightest hope that she would live to see another day. It was a morbid wish. Perhaps she would have been better off dead instead of lying limp in a puddle of her own sweat and blood.

But then, a glimmer of hope.

Her swollen lips quivered to life and the air silently whooshed between them.

_"Help me,"_ came the faint murmur.

"W-what?" I gasped.

Suddenly, a towering figure stepped beside me and snapped its soaked gloves in front of my face.

"I said 'help me.' These dishes aren't going to clean themselves."

I shifted my eyes from the television and up at my mother, who cast me a stern gaze.

"I understand that you haven't had a break from cheerleading in a while, but that is no reason to waste your day watching movies. Come on, help me dry the dishes before your father gets home," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mama. This movie is just so mesmerizing."

Eager to lend a helping hand, I hooked my arm around her waist as we strolled into the kitchen.

"You're watching that movie again? It's way too graphic and disturbing, especially since it's based on a true story... Her husband was a monster," my mother murmured, while handing me a dish towel.

The stream of sunlight seeped through the blinds and illuminated her raven curls, making her glow as if she was an ethereal goddess.

My mother was beautiful.

She had striking green eyes, deeply tanned Latin skin and a perfect smile that could brighten anyone's day. Her bubbly and often feisty personality stood out the most, which was undoubtedly what attracted my father to her. I considered myself a hybrid because of my parents' different ethnicities.

He was a 4th generation Italian-American, who lived in New Mexico his entire life, and half of my mother's family had been living in America after leaving Mexico when she was thirteen. They remained inseparable since high school, where they first met. I had been so preoccupied watching the movie that I'd forgotten to tell her the exciting news.

"So, Mom?" I began as I continued drying the basket of utensils.

"Yes, honey?"

"Remember when I told you that Jenny and I were planning a sleepover? Well, her mom said that it was okay for me to sleep over tomorrow as long as I had your permission..." I trailed off anxiously, only because we both knew that a large exception would change the fate of my invitation.

"You know that it's totally fine by me if you want to sleep over, but what's Papi going to say about this?"

"But Mom, this is only going to be one night. I've only had one sleepover so far and I'm _thirteen!_ Daddy wasn't worried when I slept over at Lucia's two years ago!" I whined.

"Yeah, because Lucy is your cousin and he threatened to kill his brother if anything happened to you. You know how your father is, Leah. He's very protective of you," my mother gently reminded me while smoothing my hair.

"I'm not a baby anymore, Mama."

"I know you're not. But to him, you're still in diapers. He still gets emotional when I mention what happened to you last week... Need I remind you?"

I found it ridiculous that my father felt the need to suffocate me even more once he found out that I had started my menstrual cycle.

On that morning a week ago, my mother had left early to run some errands while my father remained in bed sleeping. The most awful cramps suddenly jolted me awake, and within minutes I felt a flowing gush of liquid wetting the mattress around me. When I looked down to assess the damage, I was horrified to find my clothes and bedsheets stained with blood. I knew that my period had begun, yet my mind fell into panic mode.

Without another thought, I made a path straight towards my father's room and frantically shook him out of his slumber.

"What's the matter, Angel?" he asked, and groggily turned towards me.

That was when his squinted gaze grew wide with shock. I couldn't imagine what kind of thoughts were running through his mind, discovering that his only daughter was growing up even faster that he'd anticipated.

Frightened tears began to roll down my cheeks as he remained stunned and frozen in place.

"Daddy," I sobbed.

As if the situation was not embarrassing and traumatic enough, my father tore my clothes off and put me in the shower, not knowing what to do. He immediately called my mother, who soon rushed home with my much needed—and foreign—supplies.

As she explained the reason my body was going through the change, my father paced back and forth on the opposite side of the door growing quite emotional. He didn't like the idea that I now had the ability to have a baby, even though I promised him that I would wait until I was married.

"But boys can sense these types of things. They know that you're virginal and who knows what they'll do to take your innocence away?" he complained, his face paling significantly.

Needless to say, he wanted me to remain "virginal" for as long as possible.

Once my mother and I finished our task, she sent me back into the living room so that she could start dinner.

Just then, my senses perked up at the sound of a car approaching. Elated to see my father, I quickly ran outside to greet him as he pulled into the garage.

"Hi, Daddy!" I called while waving fervently at him.

It was evident that he had especially missed me on the first day of his new job as he lifted me off the ground and spun me around.

"Oh, my angel. I missed you so much! How was your day?"

"It was great. How was yours?" I asked, which caused him to chuckle.

My father did not let go of me even as we entered the house. Also eager to see him, my mother dropped everything and rushed into his arms. I found my parents' affectionate pecks extremely adorable.

"Tell me all about your day, handsome," she said.

"Everything today went better than I expected, Gabi. My boss immediately started me on my co-executive position and gave me an office as big as our bedroom. Then he invited me to lunch with his colleagues from the Albuquerque Assurance company. My new co-workers were so welcoming and genuine; it was just an awesome day," he explained while taking off his coat.

"Well, don't you know how to make a good impression? I trust that you'll be home this early every day?"

"On some days, yes. Plus I have weekends off so that gives us plenty of time to spend together as a family."

"Hmm, sounds like a great plan."

Suddenly, my father glanced over her shoulder and frowned at the kitchen.

"Look at you. You've been running errands all day... Come on, go to the living room and relax for a while. I'll take care of dinner tonight," my father insisted, being the courteous and attentive man that he was.

"Are you sure? You've been working since 9:00 this morning."

"I can last another few hours. Plus this gives me the opportunity to make my famous Tortellini with cream sauce."

After a moment of contemplation, my mother finally grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"You know me too well," she laughed.

Since he was in a good mood, I figured that it was best to talk to him about the sleepover. As my mother retreated upstairs to take a bath, I followed my father into the kitchen and hoisted myself onto the counter.

"Had a good day, Princess? What did you do?"

"I finally nailed my triple back handspring. I showed Mama in the in the backyard and she almost had a heart attack," I giggled.

"Great. You definitely have to show me before dinner... But now that you're a cheerleader, be careful around those boys. You can't really tell if they like you for your smarts or your splits."

"I know, Papa. The boys at my school aren't cute, anyway."

Now that my father had turned the "stay away from boys" card onto me, I doubted that he would let me go to Jenny's house the next day. But it was worth a try.

"Daddy," I began innocently, while wrapping his arms around his torso.

Unaware that I was trying to manipulate him, he chuckled and tilted my chin upwards.

"Yes, Angel?"

I was christened the nickname "Angel" by my father once I was born. He held me, gazed into my identical blue eyes and cried. The name that emerged from his lips became my permanent label, partly because he expected me to stay that way.

"My friend Jenny—you know, Mr. Pérez's daughter—um, she's having a sleepover with her friend tomorrow night. Her mom and Mama said that it was okay with them, so... Can I maybe go?" I questioned hesitantly.

I knew exactly what the next question was going to be.

"Will there going to be any boys at this sleepover?"

"Well, her brother and her cousin. But they're going to be with their friends in the basement the whole night... Plus, they're seventeen and eighteen—they don't want to hang out with a bunch of 13 year olds."

Without a word, my father sighed and gave me a wary glance.

"You know how this makes me feel, Leah. They live in another suburb almost two miles away from here. How am I going to know if you're safe if you're all the way over there?" he argued softly.

"I'll call you when I get to their house and before bed... I'll even call you in the morning, but please, Daddy. I want to go!"

"That's still not enough to keep me reassured. You are a developing, inexperienced teenage girl and as far as I'm concerned, I _refuse_ to let you walk around, shower and sleep in a house full of men. Mr. Pérez is a good man, but I don't feel comfortable picturing you wearing pajamas around him," he said, which immediately angered me.

"But Dad—!"

"This is for your own good, Leah-Mireya! You are not going and that's final. Now, go take your bath before dinner."

Knowing that I was not going to win, I shrieked in outrage and stormed out of the kitchen in a huff.

"I am not a baby! Stop treating me like one!" I yelled over the banister before stomping upstairs.

"Yeah, well you'll be thanking me when you're not lying dead in a ditch," he retaliated sarcastically just as I slammed the door shut.

It wasn't fair. My father couldn't leave me alone without thinking that I was in danger. Whatever activity I planned to take part in, he would always be there hovering over me like a helicopter following a criminal. I sure felt like I was incarcerated.

Why couldn't he just accept the fact that I was growing up?

Living with my father's sheltering obsession already seemed like a difficult punishment to endure, but those were the times when I was glad to have a mother who understood me.

**Gabriella**

After listening to the loud dispute between my husband and my daughter, I sensed that she was in need of comfort.

I found her lying face-down on her bed, sobbing into a pillow.

"Go away. I want to be alone!" she wept.

"It's okay to be upset, _Nena_. I know that your father can be tough to convince, but I also agree that it's not fair to you. But you are our only child," I reminded Leah while massaging her back.

Finally, she sat up and wiped her tears.

"I understand that you guys just want to do what's best for me, but how he acts is so embarrassing sometimes... Do you know what it's like to have a dad who monitors and controls everything you do? Papa kept the childproof locks on the cabinets until I was eight, and when we're in public and I have to use the bathroom, he stands outside the door until I'm finished. I'm surprised he didn't have the doctors plant a tracking device in my brain when I was born. It's horrible, Mom! I feel trapped," my daughter vented tearfully.

There was no doubt that Troy's obsessive tendencies often exceeded the boundaries of privacy, and despite his confidence, I sensed that he was also aware how much he was suffocating his daughter.

"That's completely understandable, Leah. Just remember this: Your father and I will go through hell and back if it means keeping you safe. These days, little girls your age and even younger are disappearing and showing up dead in less than a week. Like I said, you are our only daughter and I don't know what we would do if we ever lost you... We love you so much, Leah. And maybe this doesn't make sense to you now, but in the future I'm sure you'll understand and appreciate the things we did to protect you," I said.

Leah glanced down as my words began to sink in.

"Okay, Mom," she murmured silently.

I kissed her before getting to my feet.

"Papi is in the den. Go make up with him and tell him how you feel."

Without protest, Leah let out a sigh and got out of bed.

"I guess that's fair. Daddy deserves an apology," she concluded.

At least my daughter was mature enough to realize that her father meant well.

Hopefully, her apology would earn her a night at her friend's house.

**Troy**

The fight between Leah and I left me distraught after she stormed upstairs to her room.

It was upsetting how little she knew of the real world and its dangers, and it was even more upsetting that she thought she could handle it. She had absolutely no knowledge of the demented, heartless and self-gratifying monsters that lived in her own backyard, and it was my duty to shield her from those threats.

Still, I couldn't bear the guilt of watching my daughter get her heart broken. She was my princess.

As I sat alone in my den contemplating whether to go to her room to have a talk with her, my attention was caught by the sound of the door creaking. Leah slowly entered, her hands fidgeting as she cautiously made her way towards me.

"Um, Daddy? I-I need to talk to you," she stammered.

It was not difficult to tell that she had been crying.

"Sure, Angel. Come here."

Instead of taking a seat in the chair beside me, she climbed onto my lap and buried herself into my arms... Just like she did when she was five.

"Daddy, I just want you to know how thankful I am to have a father who loves me, and who would do anything to make me happy. I love you and I mean that with all my heart. But, I'm thirteen years old and you can't stop me from growing up. I know that it must be difficult for you to hear, but I'm now starting to understand the world. The real world isn't the fairy tale I once thought it was, but I still want to explore and discover things I've never experienced. Maybe those things may sometimes cause you to worry and that's okay. If I don't learn about life now, how will I ever learn if you keep sheltering me?"

Leah certainly had a point about growing up, yet my major concern for her lingered not too far behind.

"I know that you deserve more freedom than I give you, but it's not that easy. If anything ever happened to you I just—I don't know what I'd do. I wouldn't be able to move on with my life anymore," I said.

My daughter cupped my face and looked deep into my eyes as if she were my own parent.

"You have to let_ some_ things happen to me, Daddy. That's what experiences are about. You and Mama have taught me everything from learning to trust my instincts to knowing the difference between right and wrong. Even though I still have a lot to learn, please have faith in me. That's all I ask for. Just trust me," she told me firmly.

My daughter was right. The passion and conviction was evident in her eyes, and the way she tightly gripped my arm with longing told me that she wanted nothing more than to discover herself. If I didn't let her go to a sleepover for just one night, I would never be able to let her go once she was older.

"All right," I finally buckled. "You can go to the sleepover."

Leah's naturally cheerful demeanor quickly returned, and she let out a piercing squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, Daddy! Thank you _so_ much! I love you!"

I chuckled as she began to plant relentless kisses on each of my cheeks.

"I love you, too, Angel."

"Oh, my gosh. I have to call Jenny and tell her. She's going to be so excited! You're the best Daddy ever!"

It was times like those that made the hardships of parenting worth it.

"Anything for you..." I whispered to her back as she skipped out the door.

"Anything."

**I've got about three more chapters so far so review and let me know how I did on this first chapter. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! **


	2. Puppet Master

**So it seems as if Chapter One was a complete success! Thanks to all of you who encouraged me to continue with this story. As for this chapter It's slightly provocative because of the topics that arise. Anyway I hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter 2: Puppet Master**

**Gabriella**

I collapsed against my husband's chest, exhausted and sweaty but weak with bliss after we spent the night making love.

Having an extraordinarily passionate partner was not just about lust, but having someone who understood me more than anyone else I'd ever known. His deep understanding of my feelings and compassion was one of the infinite reasons I loved him so much.

"Comfy?" Troy questioned huskily, while I shuddered in contentment.

"Definitely."

"Trust me, with the hours I'll be working at my new job there'll be plenty more of this from now on."

Tearing myself from his arms, I climbed out of bed and drew the curtains apart. The desert horizon was illuminated with the gentle sapphire glow of the moonlight, and on the edges of the window formed the early hints of frost.

"Wow," I heard my husband breathe, which caused me to spin around.

His eyes gleamed with affection as he observed my uncovered body.

"What?"

"How did I get so lucky?"

"Oh, Troy, don't do this now," I moaned in embarrassment as he circled his arms around my waist.

"How was I so fortunate to have this beautiful Mexican goddess become my wife?"

"Remember the line you used the first day we met?"

"'Excuse me, but are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see,'" he recited with a wink.

Holding back our laughter, we reminisced on the slightly misinterpreted and offended reply I gave him in high school.

"'I'm from Oaxaca, jerk!'" we both exclaimed laughing.

Of course, it wasn't the bad pickup line that reeled me in, but the irony that he was one of the most popular guys in school, yet his academic rank was number two in a class of over 500. He was gentle, considerate and generous.

Almost every girl in school wanted him, yet he dated no one during his high school career... Until one day when I was sixteen.

After a grueling Saturday morning of taking SAT exams, he approached me in the parking lot and invited me to have ice cream with him. Surprised at his interest in me, I remained speechless as I contemplated taking up his offer. Having never gone out on a date before, I wanted to debunk all the horror stories I'd heard about dating flirty, popular boys and decided to take a leap of faith.

Besides, Troy seemed different.

"Sure... I'd love to," I replied, unaware that I was flirting back.

Once we'd arrived at the ice cream parlor, I'd come to discover that it was also his first date. His mysterious yet genuine blue eyes made me eager to seek the truth in them, and I quickly found myself falling for him.

From then on we were inseparable, and our relationship grew even stronger after we married and soon conceived our daughter Leah.

"I remember that day like it was yesterday. The good times keep on coming and I'm pretty sure they won't stop," he said.

"So, how are you coping with our _Nena _being gone for the night?"

"I trust her, I really do. It's just everything else around her I can't trust. Did Antonio confirm that his son and nephew would be sleeping in the basement tonight?"

"Yes, Troy. There's no need to worry about it. I'm pretty sure the high school kids will go out and do, you know, teenage stuff," I replied, which provided no help in alleviating his slight distress.

"Oh, God!" he exclaimed burying his head in his palms. "I just had a flashback of our high school years. Whatever 'teenage stuff' Antonio's kids are doing, let's hope they don't bring it back to his house."

Although Troy hated to speculate that anything despicable went on in the Pérez household, he didn't want to doubt his trust in Antonio and bring Leah back home mid-slumber party.

A great part of me knew that they were good, upright people, but the smallest part of me hoped that she would not be exposed to anything she didn't understand.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

I laid awake in my sleeping bag hours after my friends dropped like flies amidst a sugar rush. For once I felt like a regular kid, one who didn't have to worry about her father tagging along for a slumber party.

Throughout my short life he'd managed to embarrass me countless times when he thought that I was exposed or in danger, like the time he threatened some boys from my school for looking at me the "wrong way." Then there was the time he tried to make me wear leggings at my first cheerleading competition, which were quickly rejected by my mother after she scolded him for being ridiculous.

All of my friends either had boyfriends or had already lost their virginities to boys.

Jenny was a 15 year old sophomore in high school, and she told me what it was like having sex for the first time with a seventeen year old boy. I remembered blushing as she revealed every detail of her first time, including the easy efforts she made to prevent pregnancy without a condom.

"Using condoms are just things adults tell you to use so that you don't enjoy yourself as much. I only used the pill when we had sex for two weeks straight and look at me; I didn't get pregnant. Plus, it feels amazing without a condom," she told me.

Knowing nothing more about sex than the possibility of pregnancy and that _everyone_ did it, I became more curious about what it did for my friend. At her school she was also a cheerleader, and one of the most popular girls there. We first met at a local cheerleading competition. She always told me that boys loved it when girls "put out" for them, whatever that meant. I wondered if it was the reason for her popularity.

Everything about her seemed cool, trendy; exciting. The problem was, that only meant that I'd have to lie to my parents. I knew that lying was bad, but Jenny's parents wouldn't allow her to leave the house if they knew what she did. Why did having fun have to be so wrong? What she did seemed fun.

Knowing my parents, they would definitely not allow it as long as I was their daughter. And my best friend was the master of deception.

To her parents, my parents and every other adult around her, Jenny was a faithful Catholic, straight-A student who loved to volunteer at the local ranch and was the perfect and chaste role model for anyone my age or younger. They all thought that she believed in marriage before sex and never smoked or drank a day in her life. Dressing conservatively worked well in her favor, her long tunic shirts and mid-waist jeans expertly concealing her navel piercing and lower-body tattoos. She even had a mock Facebook profile filled with things she knew would keep them at ease.

"It builds their trust in you. That way, they don't suspect a thing," she once told me with a wink.

Her real Facebook profile, which was screen-named "Jenni Holy-Guacamole Pérez," contained raunchy pictures of her partying and smoking or drinking with friends, kissing several guys who looked to be about three or four years older than her. She also had over 2,000 friends.

When she showed me the pictures of herself dressed scantily clad in a jeweled bra, a miniskirt with fishnet stockings and high stiletto heels one day, I was shocked to see her posing comfortably while a high school boy eagerly reached his hand beneath her top. Beneath the picture were displayed the hundreds of comments left by her friends, which included numerous date invites and complements. She must have been an expert, because I could not even walk past a boy without tripping over invisible objects. Having the attention of almost the entire student body from several high schools seemed like a dream, because she had hundreds of friends that she could rely on whenever she felt sad or alone. Besides the few close friends I had from the cheerleading squad at school, I wasn't a total outcast.

I only wanted to be noticed. Jenny didn't know it, but I wanted to be just like her.

Keeping secrets from parents weren't all bad, because they didn't have to know everything about their child. What they didn't know surely wouldn't hurt them.

At around 3:00 in the morning, I heard Mr. Pérez slip into the room and tiptoe towards his daughter's bed.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he whispered, gently shaking her awake.

"Papi?"

"I got an emergency call from the hospital so I'll probably be gone until 7:00, okay? Your brother and his friends are sleeping downstairs, and I'm going to lock the doors so you should be fine by yourself."

As an esteemed surgeon, Jenny's father always had to leave whenever he was called to take over a shift. He often had to leave at inconvenient times and he hardly got to spend time with his family. As for her mother, she was always away on business trips. But Jenny didn't seem to mind.

"But what if someone breaks in and tries to hurt me?" she replied innocently.

"Don't be scared. I'll be back as soon as I can, but if you don't feel comfortable going back to sleep, you can stay up if you'd like. I wouldn't leave you home alone if you weren't so responsible. _Te_ _quiero, mi Ángelita_ (I love you, my little angel)," he said before kissing her forehead.

"I love you, too, Papi. Don't worry. I'll watch the house for you."

"There's a good girl. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Daddy... I'll miss you," Jenny said just as he gently pulled the door shut.

For the next few minutes, Jenny seemed to fall back asleep while I also prepared to close my eyes. But once the sound of her father's car faded into the night, she rose from the mattress. Between squinted eyes, I watched her hastily fix her hair and apply makeup to her face before stepping into the carpeted hallway.

Curious to find out where she was going, I quietly followed her as she snuck downstairs. Not soon after she returned leading an older boy by the hand back upstairs. He looked at least eighteen.

Remaining completely unseen, I strained my ears only to hear her murmur, "I have the key to my Dad's study. We can do it there."

As my friend and the mysterious guy rushed into the den, I crawled through the crack in the door before it swung shut and hid behind a copy machine in the corner.

"You better be on birth control if we're going to do this without a condom. I don't want you coming back to me with some kid," he said, seemingly arrogant in character.

"Don't worry. This'll be so good, you won't even be thinking about a condom when I'm done with you."

Without hesitation, Jenny unfastened the buttons holding together her long-sleeved pajama top and stepped out of her loose fitting pants, revealing herself to the boy with skimpy lingerie. I felt my face grow hot once his clothes were quickly disposed of.

"Mmm, for a 15 year old you have one sexy little body. Come here."

Sauntering around the leather couch he sat on, Jenny let him remove the lingerie and place kisses along her exposed chest. What occurred next left me slightly confused. Over the back of the couch where I couldn't fully see, I spotted her sit on the boy's lap in a way that she was facing him. Their bodies then seemed to move as if they were bouncing rhythmically on a trampoline, and she wrapped her arms around him while letting out repetitive sighs of pleasure. The way he kissed Jenny's neck and the way he caressed her showed that he must have really cared about her.

Slightly dismayed, I wondered what it would be like to have a boy who cared about me. They seemed to be comfortable with each other, and it certainly sounded like they were having fun.

After a few minutes, the boy let go of Jenny and told her to kneel on the floor. She disappeared below the back of the couch and remained there for some time. In the meantime the boy didn't move from his seat, but only shut his eyes and grunted towards the ceiling. That also repeated for several minutes.

Only once he stood up and rounded the couch did I see something that immediately left me scarred. Last year when my parents gave me "The Talk", my mother explained what happened to a boy when he was preparing have sex. I didn't believe them when they told me that a boy's private area became stiff when he became aroused. But now that I'd seen it with my own eyes, the sight was a frightening one.

"Let's finish this in my parent's bed. I want to show you what else I can do," Jenny replied confidently.

It was my chance to make a quick getaway before they spotted me, and as soon as they rushed into her father's bedroom, I began to make the short jaunt back to Jenny's room. But on my way I found myself colliding with a tall, hardened figure.

My breaths became stifled and labored as the man lifted my chin towards his gaze. His chest was exposed, and his pants hung dangerously low on his torso. He reeked of cigarette smoke.

"Lost, little girl?" his husky voice questioned, the disturbingly affectionate tone sending chills up my spine.

"N-no."

"You seem so young and innocent. And your lips are beautiful. Nice and plump. Have you ever been in a threesome?"

"Mm-mm."

"Do you even know what that is?"

Silently, I shook my head and took a step backwards once I felt his fingertips sting the underside of my arm. The hungry gleam in his eyes immediately caused a red flag to go up.

"Why don't you join us and make it a foursome, huh, pretty girl? Don't be scared... I don't bite."

Before I thought that I would end up suffocating in front of him, my feet seemed to develop a mind of their own and carried me back to the room where I could hide in shame.

Now I understood the reason my father wanted me to stay away from boys. Perhaps I should've paid more attention to his warnings, then I would've known that they were in fact after my innocence. After that frightening encounter, I vowed to never disobey my father from then on.

**~WYLS~**

**The Next Morning**

By sunrise, I was in an unbreakable trance once my other friend Roxana shook me out of my slumber.

"Wake up, Leah. It's breakfast time," she said.

On the other side of the room, Jenny was back in bed doing homework and wearing her pajamas as if nothing had happened between her and the boy. But I remembered it quite vividly.

My insides leapt as she flashed me that motherly smile, the same smile that she always gave me. Now all I saw in it was nothing but manipulation. I found it difficult to look into her eyes.

"Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?" she asked me cheerfully.

"Um, yeah."

"Great. My dad just got back from work and he's downstairs making breakfast for the boys. Are you hungry?"

In truth I was very hungry; yet coming face to face with the two boys she had sex with earlier that morning caused my stomach to churn.

"I-I guess so," I stammered.

Unaware of what I now thought of my best friend, Jenny giggled and grasped my arm.

"Well, come on! Let's go eat."

As she led me towards the staircase, I wondered how she had gotten so well at hiding secrets from her parents. If she could get away with anything, I could probably learn something from her to keep my father off my case. Because of Jenny's expert fabrications, her father trusted her more than my father ever would.

"Wow, Daddy. Those _Huevos Rancheros_ smell amazing. I love when you cook them on Saturday mornings."

"Ahh, _buenos días, mijita._ And good morning to you, Leah and Roxy," Mr. Pérez greeted us.

Sitting in the living room chatting were Jenny's brother, cousin and their friends. The flirty tongue swipe she gave the first boy hadn't gone by unnoticed by me, and her father was too busy mixing pancake batter to notice.

While my friends collected their plates and flocked to the living room, I on the other hand, shyly accepted my breakfast plate and decided to sit alone at the dining room table. But Jenny was still a nice girl.

"Why are you sitting over there all by yourself? Come over here so I can introduce you," she called to me.

Not wanting to be a buzz-kill by turning down her offer, I hesitantly walked into the uncharted territory of experienced teenagers and took my seat on the carpet.

"So everyone, this is Leah Bolton and she's one of my best friends. Say 'hi', Leah."

"Hi," I murmured, and quickly glanced down at my food.

"Aw, she's so adorable. How old are you, cutie?" Jenny's cousin asked.

"Um, I-I just made thirteen in April."

It was embarrassing that the boys patronized me as they would a child, when I really wasn't.

"Wow, thirteen. You know what that means, right? You're a teenager now, which means that you can do stuff big kids like us do."

That was when the man I bumped into last night inched closer to me and drilled his gaze into my eyes, which I found difficult to tear away. Had he been a hypnotist, I would have quickly succumbed to his venomous spell.

"You have stunning blue eyes to match that pretty little face of yours. It must be hard keeping the boys away."

I cringed inwardly as he brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. As I looked down, the crotch of his sweatpants revealed the growing impression of something I'd never seen before. It continued to grow, resembling a monster that threatened to burst free and hurt me, and I quickly realized that it was the same reaction my parents told me about. The same one I saw last night. Thankfully, Mr. Pérez came to my rescue, yet he was still blissfully unaware that the boy had considered me as a worthy sexual partner.

"Quit bothering Leah, Tony. She's trying to eat her breakfast. Look at how nervous you made her," he said from across the room.

"Don't be scared, little girl... I don't bite."

Suddenly my breakfast was on its way back up, and a gush of bile seemed to climb up my throat. Fearing that I would vomit in front of these boys, I leapt to my feet, knocking down my glass of orange juice in the process. But once I locked myself into the nearest bathroom and leaned over the toilet, I realized that it was just my imagination. I wasn't going to throw up. Still, I felt extremely sick after witnessing the events that occurred in the Pérez household after dark.

My best friend, one of the few people my parents could trust and I could trust had turned out to be one of the most thrill-seeking, dangerous and secretive people I'd ever come to know. My mother and father always warned me to stay away from bad influences because they knew that I could be easily steered in the wrong direction. Jenny's seemingly precious charm and daily efforts to remain pure was just a setup to make her parents think that she was the perfect teenager. But her poor mother and father, even her brother, had no knowledge of the real Jennifer Pérez, and that was power.

She was the puppet master and we were the inanimate dolls being controlled by her strings.

"Leah, _miel._ Are you okay?" I heard Mr. Pérez call from the other side.

"No... I feel sick. Is it okay if I call my Dad?"

"Sure, no problem. Open the door so I can give you my phone."

Quickly doing as he told me, I grabbed the phone and dialed the house number. As expected, my father picked up after the first ring.

"Mr. Pérez, how's my baby girl doing?"

"Daddy? Daddy, it's me," I replied close to tears.

"What's wrong, Angel?"

"I-I feel sick, Papa. I want to come home."

There was no need to tell him twice. Within ten minutes my father screeched to a stop outside the house and came in looking for me. Needless to say, he was extremely concerned and managed to drive two miles over in record time. I remained on the toilet hugging my knees until the door burst open, and he was at my side in a flash.

"How did you get sick? Was it something you ate? Have you been in the sun too long? Are you dehydrated?" he asked frantically.

Meanwhile, Jenny, her father and Roxana watched in concern from the doorway.

"No, it wasn't any of that. I'm fine."

Releasing a sigh of relief, he gently engulfed me in his arms and kissed me on the lips. I hated when he kissed me in front of my friends.

"What happened? You've been begging me to sleep over here since you and Jenny met. Now you want to leave so early?"

The more we talked, the more the curious boys gathered near the open door. More uncomfortable than embarrassed, I swallowed hard as I spotted Jenny's palm discreetly slither down another boy's crotch.

"I don't know. I just... got homesick, I guess. I didn't mean to scare you," I shrugged, ashamed to tell the truth.

It was one of the first lies I had ever spoken to my father.

"Oh, no. That's okay, my angel. As long as you're okay," he said to me. "Let's go."

My eyes never left the tiled floor once he lifted me into his arms and held me close. Feeling two years old again, I buried my face in the crook of his neck and tightened my grip around his shoulders.

"Thank you so much for keeping my daughter in your company, Antonio. It really means a lot to me that you kept her safe during the night."

"You're welcome. But really, it's Jennifer who deserves your thanks. She was really a big help last night."

"Just doing what's best for my closest friend... Feel better, Leah," Jenny said before blowing me a kiss.

My gaze against hers never faltered as my father made his way towards the door, making the distance between us greater until she disappeared behind the front door.

It was safe to say that the only man I could really trust was my father.

**~WYLS~**

**One Week Later**

**Gabriella**

New Mexico's climate was brutal this time of year, and since Leah had not received a break from cheerleading that week, I decided to take my daughter out shopping. Of course, Troy wanted to tag along to see exactly what we were planning to buy.

"No miniskirts, no low-rise jeans and no short or tight fitting T-shirts... Dear God, no bikinis," he coached with a shudder as we strolled into the mall.

But she was too excited to pay any heed to his rules and pulled me into the nearest store.

"Ohh, Mama! Look at those cute bathing suits!"

"No bikinis, Angel," he meekly reminded her.

"But, Daddy, it's not like I have big enough boobs to fill them out."

While I held back a giggle, my husband nearly fainted at her sassy response.

"Don't you even joke about that! I don't want you flaunting your pre-adolescent body for men. Now you're forbidden to wear a bikini until you're 20!"

"Calm down, Troy! The girl is obviously proud of her body and we should be glad that she doesn't have any self-esteem issues... Come on, how about we let her try on a monokini? It looks like a bikini from the back but it's really a one-piece suit," I calmly suggested.

"And show off her lower back? I don't think so."

That was when Leah glanced up at her father with those big, innocent tear-filled eyes and trembling pouty lips. It was a tactic she used to get whatever she wanted from Troy, and it always reeled him in because she knew that he'd do anything to make her happy.

"Daddy... please?" she whimpered.

Perhaps her tactic worked too well. My husband looked as if he was also on the verge of tears. I, however, never fell for it that easily.

"Oh, Angel. Of course you can try it. But just this one time, okay?"

Letting out a piercing squeal, Leah threw her arms around him and pulled him down to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Daddy! I love you so much!"

"I love you too, Leah."

Suddenly, a devious thought made its presence in my mind. I decided that my husband needed a small dose of reality, and I hoped that my contemplation would shut him up. It was going to be a cruel joke, but he deserved it.

While he checked the dressing room for implanted video cameras (as he always did), I grabbed a bikini along with the one-piece suit and hurried my daughter into the empty stall. Leah's eyes grew large with shock once I presented her with the bikini.

_"You didn't!_ Mom!" she gasped quietly.

"I know that your father doesn't allow you to wear these kinds of things, but I figured that a little prank can do no harm."

"Oh, he is going to die when I walk out there... Help me get it on."

As I helped my daughter out of her clothes and into the swimsuit, I sensed that Troy was on the other side worrying about seeing his daughter in a slightly revealing suit. He had not prepared himself to see her wearing a full bikini. Either way, I knew that his reaction would be priceless.

"I'll go first, but just walk out, don't talk and stand in front of him. That's all you need to do," I whispered before slipping out the stall door.

"How does she look? Is it too exposing?" he questioned anxiously.

"I don't know. Why don't you look and decide for yourself?"

Not a moment after Leah sauntered around the corner did my husband become as pale as a ghost. Had he been asthmatic, he certainly would have passed out once the stunned intake of breath he took caused him to cough violently.

As my daughter and I burst into laughter, he hastily grabbed a towel from the nearest rack and engulfed her body in it.

"Are you two out of your minds? Are you trying to kill me? That's underwear, not a swimsuit!" he hissed discreetly.

"We were just kidding, honey. She didn't really want to get the bikini; it was just a harmless little prank."

"And you think giving me a coronary is funny? Look at our daughter—she's _thirteen!_ And wh-when did she get curves?"

"She's Latina, Troy. They're going to come early whether you want them to or not," I chuckled.

Releasing a sigh, Troy swiped his palm across his lips and tried, at his best, to be as reasonable as possible. He still believed that we had taken the joke too far.

"Okay, you made your point. Just get the other bathing suits and some shorts to go over it," he muttered.

"Aww, we're sorry, Papi. We promise we won't do it again, all right?" I cooed, planting a kiss against his lips.

Although Troy was fearful for the well-being of his daughter, it was comforting to know how much he loved her. There were so many children who had fathers who didn't care for them or fathers who weren't there for them at all, and Leah did not understand why he went to such great lengths to protect her.

Hopefully, she would catch on before it was too late.

**I'm excited to post the next chapter, which will be out much quicker than this one. I did most of this chapter from Leah's POV because it shows just how much she hasn't matured yet even though she thinks she is. That's how most teens see themselves anyway, so I was easily inspired lol. It also shows how much of a worry wart Troy is when it comes to the welfare of his daughter. Thanks for reading and keep up the feedback! :D**


	3. Trust

**Wow, thanks for all of the feedback. I really appreciate it! Anyway here's another installment and I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: Trust**

**Troy**

"I just don't get it, Mark... We used to be so close... Now she pushes me away... and hides whenever I want to... talk to her," I grunted with each blow I delivered to the punching bag.

Spending a few hours at the local gym once a week was a great way to relieve stress at the end of a long day.

Lately it seemed as though keeping an eye on my daughter was getting beyond my control, and I couldn't monitor her as closely as I wanted to. Initiating a conversation with her was like speaking to a brick wall, and she usually retreated to her bedroom the moment she returned from cheerleading practice. What was she hiding? The mere thought of her keeping secrets from me caused my stomach to turn.

"Let's face it: she's a girl. A hormone charged, full-of-angst, emotionally unstable teenaged girl. Once they hit those years there's no stopping the kind of things they'll keep from you, and it's only natural that they just want their privacy. It doesn't necessarily mean that they're doing bad things."

Mark, my co-worker and one of my newest friends at the company, had no experience in having children of his own. But I admired his understanding of teenagers and how they dealt with such an exciting and treacherous time in their young lives.

"I know she's not doing anything wrong. But I've seen the way those young boys gawk at her during cheerleading competitions or school games. They get all excited and tingly, and they don't know what to do with themselves so they start doing stupid things that they don't understand... Believe me, I've been there."

"That may be true, but if you don't think that you can trust her to be unsupervised for just one second then maybe you're not doing a good job teaching her," Mark replied frankly.

I knew that he was just trying to help me understand that Leah deserved to be trusted, and perhaps his method was the best type of motivation there was.

"I_ could_ try. As long as she doesn't get me with those wide, blue eyes. And those lips... She's just like her mother," I chuckled to myself.

After spending another half-hour completing boxing drills, we moved onto the weight area to do bench presses. While Mark spotted me from above, I hoped to beat my previous weight record of 215 pounds by challenging myself even further.

When I used to play football in high school, my coach always told us that giving up on a challenge was like giving up on life. My parents also reminded me that it was essential for me to put my entire heart and soul in whatever I did, and their words never faded from my thoughts from then on.

Protecting my daughter was something I intended to do wholeheartedly. I was determined.

**~WYLS~**

Later that evening I returned home only to find my wife and daughter chatting and laughing on the couch.

"Hey, girls. What are you two giggling about?"

Simultaneously, their heads spun around towards the foyer and Gabriella flashed a wide grin. Leah's smile, on the other hand, slowly faded. Her features were unreadable.

"There's my strong, sexy man. We were starting to think that you wouldn't come home," she said before pecking my cheek.

Turning my attention towards Leah, I grinned and said, "How was your day, Beautiful?"

Without a word, Leah rose from the couch and strode off towards the staircase.

"Leah, why won't you talk to me? Come back, Angel."

Unfortunately, my desperate call was not enough to convince her otherwise, and she hesitated as she approached the stairs.

"Um, maybe tomorrow. I-I've got homework to do and it's going to take me all night to finish," she stammered.

Once she sped off to her room, I shook my head in confusion and sat beside my wife with a sigh.

"Please tell me what I'm doing wrong? Because I honestly don't know what's bothering her."

Lending silent support, Gabriella began to massage my shoulders in hopes that she could ease the tension in my fatigued muscles.

"She wants her space, Troy. You can't expect her to recite every detail of her day if it's not something she's comfortable with... Give her some time, okay? I'm sure she'll come around," she gently reassured me.

"But what does she have to be uncomfortable about? I'm her father. If it's extremely personal, of course I won't judge her."

"That's very true. Just consider all the restrictions you give for, say for instance, interacting with boys. Every boy she talks to doesn't necessarily mean that she'll end up having sex with them—"

"Whoa, Gabi. At her age, she shouldn't even be thinking about sex. But I know for a fact that those reckless kids at her school talk about it like it's the greatest thing in the world, and who knows what teenagers will do to fit in? I have to give her restrictions," I argued.

As I stood up from the couch to head to Leah's bedroom, Gabriella quickly pulled me back and looked deep into my eyes.

"Don't you trust her? She's not a baby—our daughter knows what you want from her! What the hell _do _you want from her?"

"I want her to trust me!"

Suddenly, a quiet creak from the stairway caught our attention.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Leah, who looked as if she was building the courage to speak her mind. At the same time, tears of anger and betrayal ran down her face.

"Do you know why I can't trust you, Papa? It's because you treat me like I'm some kind of delicate flower. I can't believe that you don't trust me enough to make decisions for myself, and maybe it isn't obvious to you but it's discouraging to me. You make me feel like I'm too stupid to know the difference between right and wrong! Please, just stop controlling my life. I want my freedom, and you're only driving me further away... I'm sorry I'm not the perfect child you wanted."

My heart crumbled at her response. How could my own daughter think that I preferred a different child over her? I was responsible for lowering her self-esteem, for hurting her. If my parenting was bringing us closer to separation, then I had nothing else to keep her convinced.

"No, Leah. I never wanted a perfect child. I wanted a normal child. I wanted a child that I could love and protect and make memories with for the rest of my life. To lose you forever would be my worst fear, and when I held you in my arms for the first time, I promised you that I would be there no matter what. There are plenty of kids whose parents wouldn't give them the time of day, and to me, that's just heartless. All the sacrifices we've made for you were out of love. If we didn't love you as much as we do, you would probably be out in the streets by yourself doing things that could put your life in danger. I love you, Leah. We both love you. Do you understand that?"

Her features softened in realization, possibly because she came to the conclusion that I was right. Without a word, Leah crashed into me and embraced me with all the strength she had.

"Yes, Daddy. I know... I just want to fit in," she murmured despondently.

"It's hard, Angel; I understand. But why do what everyone else does when you were born to be yourself? The truth is, people will always judge you or criticize you in life. If you choose to let their opinions take control of you, then you'll never be content with yourself. You don't have to satisfy anyone else but yourself. You're a strong, beautiful, and intelligent little girl and I just want you to be happy," I told my daughter.

"Okay, Daddy... I'm sorry for what I said," Leah replied guiltily.

I pulled her closer and swiped the hair away from her eyes.

"Oh, no, Angel. If there's ever anything on your mind that you just want to get out in the open, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm your father. It's my job to be here for you."

"I love you," she sniffled.

"I love you, too... Always."

My daughter and I remained in our position until I thought the world had faded around us. My wife also grew quite emotional watching us, and joined in on our tight embrace.

That evening I realized that my daughter knew more than I expected, especially how much I loved her. If I could learn to trust my instincts and Leah, then I'd know that I was doing a great job raising her.

**The Next Day**

**Leah**

Nerves continued to rattle me as my team and I prepared to cheer in our first major competition.

Hoping to keep our minds off of the growing crowd in the gymnasium, Jenny and I helped each other stretch while chatting about her favorite topic: boys.

"Ooh, that spotter from the Tigers looks pretty cute. Why don't you go over and say 'hi'? He seems to be interested in you," she teased, giving me a playful nudge.

"Him? But he's a high schooler. He wouldn't want to talk to me."

But it turned out that her instincts were stronger than mine, and butterflies tumbled in my stomach as he began his approach towards me. The boy appeared to be 15 or 16, and he had a thin, clean-cut moustache to match his short, spiky hair. His full lips made me want to reach up and run my fingers along them.

"Hi, there."

"Um, h-hi," replied meekly, and wanted to slap myself for sounding like a child.

"I noticed you from across the room and I've just gotta say that you are one impressive girl. You're pretty cute, too."

My heart leapt as he gave me a wink and smile that revealed a pair of deep dimples in his cheeks. He was extremely cute himself.

"Thanks, I guess. What's your name?"

"Ricardo. But you can call me Ricky... Have you ever gone out with a 16-year-old before?" he asked, leaning close to me.

I could only shake my head in silence to prevent an excited squeak from escaping.

"Well, me and a couple of buddies are going to a friend's house later to play a few games in Espina. It'll be just like a family game night. You can bring your friend along and we can all have some fun. What do you say?"

Almost immediately I thought of the frenzy of questions my father would ask this boy before even considering turning his back on him, let alone leaving me alone with him. But then I also thought of the mountain of clever excuses Jenny taught me to recite to my parents. This was something I wanted to do without having to worry about my father.

I trusted my instincts. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, and hanging out with a high schooler surely couldn't hurt me.

"Sure, we'll come. I'll just have to tell my dad that me and Jenny are going somewhere else..."

"Leah! Leah, where are you?" I heard my father calling in the distance.

"Guess that's my cue to leave. My team's up anyway. I'll see you later, Beautiful," he murmured, and brushed his finger beneath my chin before coolly sauntering away.

It seemed as though Ricky had disappeared just in time for my father to poke his head through the curtain.

"Dad, this is the dressing room! You're not supposed to be back here!" I hissed under my breath.

"I know. I just wanted to give you something before you guys went on."

Try as he might, he found it difficult to ignore the dense mask of glitter and cosmetics covering my face. He hated seeing me in makeup.

"God, why does your coach insist on making you girls wear so much makeup? I can hardly recognize you—you look seventeen," he said in slight disgust.

"Because it makes the judges see our faces much clearer from far away. What was it you wanted to give me?"

"Oh, your mother and I planned to give you this on your birthday, but it never arrived in the mail soon enough. Just think of this as a late birthday gift."

I gasped as my father presented me with a black velvet box and opened it to reveal a diamond locket necklace in the shape of an envelope. On the back of the silver envelope were the engraved letters that spelled out the words "Dear Daughter." It was beautiful.

"Daddy—"

"Go ahead and open it. Read what it says," he whispered.

"'I was never so blessed as the day you were born.'"

As I moved my thumb lower on the pendant, I noticed the message "I love you" at the bottom of the locket **(in profile).** Still in shock, I hardly moved as he draped the necklace over my head and locked its clasps together.

"We picked this locket because we knew that the words were true. There was nothing else on this earth that blessed us more than you. You're the best thing that has ever happened to us, and I'm proud to say that we have a daughter who is compassionate, beautiful, mature and best of all, honest."

Without a doubt, his words struck me with guilt knowing that I was going to hang out with a bunch of teenagers behind my father's back. But I didn't want to disappoint Ricky or Jenny by telling them that I was too chicken to lie to my parents. That wasn't going to impress them at all.

Swallowing hard, I could only manage a timid, "Thank you, Daddy."

My father only grinned and tilted my chin up. His lips seemed to burn my flesh as he planted a kiss on my cheek.

"You're welcome, Angel. You guys are going to do great out there. I love you, all right? Don't ever forget that."

"I love you, too," I murmured before he disappeared back into the gymnasium.

Now I really didn't know what to do. To make matters worse, Ricky kissed me on the same spot once his team returned from the floor.

"Good luck, baby girl."

If there was one thing to be learned about deception, it was having the ability to please everyone at once. Hoping not to let both encounters faze me, I took a deep breath and put on a large grin for the crowd.

Whatever happened later, I relied on my instincts to guide me further. They never failed me in the past.

**~WYLS~**

Once the competition was over, I couldn't help but think that my self-conflict must have been the fatal flaw that cost my team a first place finish. I was not upset when we placed second against the Tigers, but I was upset for letting my fear get the better of me on the floor.

Perhaps my parents also noticed.

"There's our big winner! Come here, _mija!"_ my mother exclaimed while opening her arms to me.

In her arms I was rewarded with seemingly endless hugs and kisses from both of my parents.

"Second place in your first competition. Against high schoolers too. Great job, Angel!"

"Thanks, Papa. I had a lot of fun doing it, too," I replied.

"Well, it showed. And because we're so proud of you this little trophy is getting its own shelf and you can pick any place you want to celebrate."

Just then, I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt the tip of Ricardo's fingers brush against my arm.

"Hey, great job out there. You guys were awesome. Go Bobcats," he said as if we were meeting for the first time.

"Thanks. Congrats on your win."

From the look on my father's face, I could tell that he immediately sensed a bad vibe in Ricky, and suspiciously watched him walk away. If my father knew that this was the boy I suddenly developed a crush on, he'd lock me away in a tower like Rapunzel.

"I don't like the way that guy looked at you. It was like he was undressing you with his eyes."

"Oh, babe. The boy was doing no such thing! He was simply congratulating a fellow cheerleader on their placement," my mother said rationally.

Hopefully my request wouldn't put him on edge.

"Anyway, Daddy?"

"Yes, Angel?"

"Jenny and a few of the girls were planning to go bowling in Corrales then catch a movie on the way back. Her cousin is driving. They wanted me to join them, so is it okay if I go with them?" I asked, anxiously biting my bottom lip.

"Corrales? I don't think so! That's over _200_ miles from Las Cruces—nearly a four hour drive. There's a bowling alley sitting in the middle of the city. Why the hell would they drive so far just to go bowling?"

"B-Because most of the girls live near Corrales and it makes more sense to make one trip and drop them off before we come back to Las Cruces," I stammered.

"Well, do Jenny's parents know about this?"

"They—"

"Call her over here right now," he demanded.

Knowing that I wasn't going to win against my father, I reluctantly called Jenny over, who skipped over knowing nothing of my fabrication.

"Yes, Mr. Bolton?" she asked cheerfully.

"Is it true that your cousin is taking you girls out bowling for the night in Corrales? Is she also going to take you to the movies there?"

Jenny knew exactly what I had done.

"Of course. We might be there until night because of the long drive but we're definitely going to Corrales."

My friend proved that she was ready to answer any tricky question my father dished out, and even challenged to call her father to get confirmation.

"My father knows about it. Here's my phone; you can call him if you'd like," she said sweetly.

My mother had heard enough.

"There's no need for that, honey. Mr. Bolton is fine with letting Leah go bowling with you and your friends. Right, Troy?"

The threatening daggers she shot towards him were non-negotiable, and he reluctantly surrendered against his suspicions.

"Thank you guys so much!"

"You're welcome, mijita. Have a good time with your friends and I'll make sure this one doesn't try to follow you to Corrales," my mother chuckled.

"My cousin isn't going to be here for another ten minutes, but I'll look after her in the meantime if that's okay."

"That's no problem for us. We were just going to leave. Troy, give your daughter some money so she can use at the bowling alley and the movies."

Sighing to himself, my father dug through his pocket and handed me $20 before pulling me into a long embrace.

"Just be careful, okay? Don't talk to people you don't know. And keep your phone on so that we can stay in touch."

"You know I will, Daddy... I love you," I said innocently.

Managing a wary smile, my father tucked a curl behind my ear and kissed my forehead.

"I love you, too, Leah."

As my parents slowly strode away occasionally tossing back waves, Jenny quickly praised me for coming up with a clever lie.

I was finally going to go out on my first date with a cute, gentle high schooler who really seemed to care about me. Perhaps nothing could change my mind from also getting my first kiss. If lying was the only way to get what I wanted, I'd do it as long as it made me happy.

**~WYLS~**

**Later That Night**

Of course, Jenny and I never gathered our friends to go bowling in Corrales, and her cousin could care less where we were going as long as we remained out of her sight. She dropped us off at the apartment in Espina where Ricky told us to meet him and half-heartedly promised to return to give me a ride home.

"This is going to be awesome! I told you lying to your parents would work out," she said, clutching my arm in excitement.

As she dragged me into the building I did not have to look around much to see that we were in a rough neighborhood, and frantically ignored the red flags that were going up. After watching a couple practically grope each other in the corridor, I knew for a fact that board games were not going to be involved.

My face broke into a smile once I spotted Ricky standing near the doorway.

"Hey, baby, I didn't think you would come. C'mon, let me show you around," he said, grasping my hand.

I was quickly led into a living room where I nearly choked on the thick cloud of smoke, and pairs everywhere were kissing and touching each other. Beer cans littered the floor.

As we passed a closet I caught an unwanted glimpse of a couple having sex as if they were alone. If this was what high school people did, I understood why Jenny was so popular.

"Don't worry, he's not hurting her," Ricky chuckled.

Our final destination ended up being an empty bedroom at the end of a hallway upstairs, and I was apprehensive at first until Ricky reassured me that he only wanted to get to know me. Without hesitation, I climbed onto the couch beside him and relaxed in his arms.

"So, tell me about yourself."

"Well... I've been living in Las Cruces my whole life, I'm half Mexican and half Italian. I'm thirteen and I'm a cheerleader. Nothing special, really," I said. "What about you?"

"I'm from Texas but my parents dragged me to this lame-ass place last year. El Paso is much cooler than here… At least the girls are hot."

I knew there was a chance that he also considered me attractive by the way he tightened his grip around me. It felt different being with a boy. My heart raced, butterflies fluttered in my stomach, my palms quivered in anticipation; and the sensations never seemed to fade beside him.

No wonder nearly every girl I knew had boyfriends. There was nothing quite like it.

Ricky and I continued to talk for a half-hour until a sudden commotion shook us out of our conversation.

"What was that?" I asked.

Without a word Ricky sprung to his feet, nearly taking my head off in the process. For a moment he disappeared into the hallway to look at something, then returned and grabbed my hand once again.

"It's a good thing you're here. Follow me, I want you to see something."

The faint sound of loud cheers and hoarse cries echoed throughout the house as he led me back to the living room. What I found was not only shocking, but officially changed the way I viewed my best friend.

Surrounded by a horde of hormonal teenage boys, Jenny casually had sex with a guy she hardly knew. It was almost disgraceful to see her do something in front of a crowd that was meant to be special and intimate. My hands immediately moved up to shield my eyes, but Ricky quickly pulled them back down and held me in place so that I could not escape.

Soon I became so mesmerized by the scene that I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from it.

"Don't be scared, look how much fun she's having. Your friend's got some talent, doesn't she?"

Unable to speak, I could only stand back helplessly and watch in horror. I sensed that I was expected to do the same once Ricky swept my curls aside.

"This makes me wonder... What can you do, cutie?" he whispered huskily.

In the time it took for me to realize that it was too late to reverse my mistake, I was being taken back to the bedroom by my wrist.

"Ricky, w-wait."

"What?"

"I'm not—I've never done that before," I replied uneasily.

"So you're a virgin?"

Silently, I glanced down at my feet in embarrassment and nodded. I was nothing but an inexperienced kid to him.

"Have you ever even kissed someone _besides_ your parents?" he asked.

"No."

"It's no big deal. How about I teach you?"

He felt me tense up again, and reassured me that he was just giving me a lesson in kissing. We returned to the couch, I slowly relaxed against his gentle caress.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are? You're perfect."

"I am?" I gasped in disbelief. "No guy has ever said that to me."

"They obviously don't know what they're missing. Now, are you ready?"

I was more than ready to be like a real teenager. For once there was no one telling me what to do, and this sudden freedom made me feel so alive.

"Yes."

"Start by leaning in slowly and tilt your head a little so that your lips are lined up with mine. Make sure that your lips are wet because it's not gonna work if they're dry," he instructed.

Doing as Ricky told me, I braced myself as his lips came closer and closer. It was going to happen. I was going to have my first kiss. The air seemed to thicken as he tilted my chin upwards.

"Close your eyes, part your lips and..."

Tentatively, our lips met and molded together like a puzzle piece. Sudden fireworks seemed to go off around us while I became increasingly comfortable with his lips against mine. Despite the slight apprehension I felt letting Ricky kiss me further, I parted my lips to give him more access and relished in the zesty taste of his tongue. Now that we were in full makeout mode, there was no stopping the feverish actions that took place between us. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

The kiss grew deeper and more intense as his palms locked around my waist. Wearing a skirt worked to my advantage, and I couldn't resist the flood of sensations that overwhelmed my body under Ricky's groping touch. Something new blossomed within me as his hand slowly made its way further up my thigh. Without warning the tips of his fingers began to stroke me through my thin shorts, causing me to nearly jump through the roof. It felt so right and good; I never wanted it to end.

Although I had known Ricardo for a few hours, I was eager to lose my virginity to him just to experience what it was like to be a real teenager. The strain of not being touched to the fullest was driving me insane, and I knew that I was finally going to get relief once his hand slipped between my shorts. My breaths became stifled and trembling in the search for air.

He was so close to giving me what I desperately wanted, inching beneath my underwear when…

"Oh, my God! Leah!"

Knowing who the horrified voice belonged to, I quickly broke the kiss while Ricky attempted to flee. But he was not going to get past my father, who looked angrier than ever.

I watched in stunned silence as he thrust the boy against the wall and pinned him with one arm.

"Get your dirty hands off of my daughter! Don't let me catch you anywhere near her ever again, got that?" he bellowed.

"Y-yes, sir."

Once Ricky was the last of his friends to scatter, I was left to face my unquestionably shocked and disappointed parents.

Behind them, Jenny looked just as guilty as she pulled on the rest of her clothes. It was over for her.

Utterly humiliated, I didn't know what to do but burst into tears.

"Mommy, Daddy, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't be mad at me," I sobbed hysterically.

"What else can I say, Leah besides finding you and Jenny in some abandoned building after you told me that you were going bowling?" my father began.

"And, oh-no, that's not even the worse part. If we hadn't received a phone call from Mr. Pérez saying that his daughter was missing, something really serious could have happened to both of you. _¡Ay, Dios!_ Why would you two meet with a bunch of perverted 16 year old boys who you don't even know? That doesn't even make sense! As if finding Jenny having sex with a stranger in front of an audience wasn't bad enough, we find you up here getting ready to do the same thing with some boy's hand up your skirt!"

"Mama, it wasn't like that! We weren't going to do anything," I replied.

"Oh, really? None of you seemed to be stopping at all. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Gabi, let me handle this," my father said, slowly intervening.

"Leah, your mother and I are extremely disappointed in you for what you did. You went behind our backs and snuck away to do things that you know we don't condone at all. These people were getting high and drinking alcohol. You could have been seriously hurt, do you know that? We taught you better than this."

"Daddy, I'm sorry. I-I just—"

"And what's worse is that you lied to us and took advantage of our trust. That was something that took years to build, and up until a few days ago I started to become confident that you would make the right choices. I had faith that you were going to do the right thing and avoid doing stupid, reckless things. But after this, how am I supposed to trust you ever again? I don't even know what to believe in anymore."

It was not the sheer hurt in his eyes that caused my heart to clench with guilt, but knowing that he was never going to trust me again. If there was one thing I valued most about our relationship, it was his trust in me.

"Papa, I'm sorry," I apologized again, but my father made it perfectly clear that he did not want to talk to me again for the night.

Even as I tried to grasp his hand, he pulled away from me and left the room. I didn't dare look into my mother's eyes, who I knew would give me no leniency whatsoever. But it was worth a try.

"Mom, please—"

"Don't start, Leah. Your father and I worked so hard to steer you in the right direction, and this is the thanks we get? I hope you didn't think that keeping secrets wasn't going to hurt us, but look at what it's done. Your dishonesty was like a slap in the face. We _are_ hurt," she said.

Remorse for my lack of judgment was not nearly enough to heal the pain in their hearts, and I didn't even know where to begin to earn their forgiveness.

"Get in the car now. You're grounded for a month. No TV, no cell phone, no computer... No cheerleading and no friends until you can find a way to earn our trust back."

As my mother left me alone, I could only blame myself for being so stupid and thinking that it was okay to betray my parents like I did. I had become so caught up in trying to get noticed that I never once considered the amount of damage it would cause to the relationship with my parents.

Until I could put the shattered remnants of their trust back together, I would have to figure out where I went wrong in the first place.

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	4. A Father's Blessing

**Thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter. I really appreciated reading your predictions and what you thought of Leah's slip-up. Anyway I will be working like crazy trying to create more chapters before I leave for college. I know I'm going to be _very_ busy but of course I will still make the time to get back to my wonderful readers. Please enjoy! **

**Chapter 4: A Father's Blessing**

**Troy**

Of all the people I could have blamed for putting my daughter in danger, I never imagined that she would be responsible.

What on earth had possessed her to lie to me and follow someone who could care less about her? I was confident that Leah had enough self-respect and dignity to know that boys only wanted one thing from her. Usually punishments that lasted a month was something I considered harsh at her age, but she deserved it because she knew that she was older and smarter enough to make the right choices for herself. Still, seeing her upset broke my heart.

During the second week of her punishment, Gabriella and I received shocking news from the Pérez family that forever changed our relationship with them. Once Leah returned from school that afternoon, she quickly avoided eye contact and immediately began to head upstairs.

"When do you think we should tell her? Now or later?" I negotiated with my wife.

"I think now. It'll just be worse for her if we wait too long."

As we climbed the staircase, I wondered if Leah knew about it as much as we did. If so, we had all the more reason to question the choices she made.

On the opposite side of the door, we heard the sound of an object repeatedly bouncing off of the walls. Certainly, she must have been bored.

"Leah? Is it okay if we come in?" Gabriella asked gently.

After a few seconds, the doorknob slowly turned and we were allowed to enter.

"Hey, babydoll. What are you up to?"

Without a word, Leah raised the tennis ball and climbed onto the mattress.

"Did anything interesting happen in school today?" I asked hoping to strike up a conversation.

But her next response was a quick shake of the head.

"Alright. I guess there's nothing wrong with the usual. Leah, your father and I wanted to talk to you because we got a call from Mr. Pérez a few minutes ago. It's really serious and we just wanted you to know what can happen when you try to do what everyone else is doing," she began. "We found out that your friend Jennifer is... Well, she's pregnant. Two months along, to be exact. Apparently, two weeks ago wasn't the first time she's had sex and Mr. Pérez told us that she confessed to sleeping with at least 15 different boys. To be honest, this really concerned us because we figured that as her best friend she's probably spoken to you openly about it. Were you aware that she was doing this?"

Uncertainly, Leah nodded and looked at her hands in guilt.

"For how long, Angel?" I questioned softly.

"Um, since January."

Those words were the first she had uttered in two weeks.

"What did she tell you?"

Leah hesitated as if she feared that we would add to her month-long sentence.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. We just want the truth, _Nena,"_ Gabriella reassured.

"Jenny's the most popular girl in school because... she has sex with boys all time. Sometimes they're her age or a little older, but most of the time they're 18. She told me that it was the only way to get noticed by them, and I believed her but I was too scared to do what she was doing. Remember the Facebook profile I showed you after she met you?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Well, everything on that page is fake and she uses it to keep her parents at ease. On her real Facebook she has pictures of herself kissing them and smoking, and wearing clothes that show off her belly button ring and tattoos. I don't know why but, I actually wanted to be like her. I know that she's a bad influence but I just wanted to, you know, experience what it would be like."

As our daughter kept her eyes downcast in shame, I lifted her chin only to find tears in her eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm horrible! I lied to you guys to hang out with some boy I didn't know, and you saw me letting him touch me. Anything I do from now will never make you trust me again because I'm so stupid," she sobbed.

Giving into my emotions, I pulled her onto my lap and embraced her in my arms.

"No, Angel. Don't talk that way about yourself. You're an intelligent little girl and that was one of the reasons we grounded you in the first place. You should've known better," I whispered.

"I know... Because I should have been smart and chosen friends who weren't like Jenny. She was a bad influence on me because I let her influence me."

"Why do you think your father and I watch you so closely? We don't want you to end up in the same position as Jennifer or worse. You're our world, Leah-Mireya. We love you," Gabriella said firmly her eyes locked on Leah's.

"I love you, too, Mama and Papa. And I promise that I'll never lie to you or disobey you ever again."

After our heartfelt talk, I remained positive that we would rebuild each other's trust and bring it back into our small family. The promise my daughter made to my wife and I was going to bring us one step closer back to a life of openness and honesty.

**~WYLS~**

**Gabriella**

_"Sí, Mamá. Vamos hablar en la mañana... Ay, te amo también. Adiós." _

As I hung up the phone, Leah strolled into the kitchen in curious silence.

"Was that Grandma?" she asked.

"Of course it was. How did you know?"

"Oh, I can't understand Spanish that much but you kept saying 'Mama.' You were talking about someone's birthday, right?"

"Very good, _mija!_ You're learning more Spanish every day," I praised my daughter.

"You know, I should take you to Oaxaca one of these days so you can meet the rest of your family."

Seemingly, the fact that many of my relatives still remained in Mexico came as a surprise to my daughter.

"I don't get it... Why is it so difficult for Mexicans to just come here? It's not like they're doing anything wrong by trying to survive."

"Well, it's very complicated. It's considered illegal for anyone from _any _country to cross into U.S. territory without the proper documents or permission. Immigration and citizenship approval took years for my family and I, but it did pay off. They wanted to give me every opportunity possible to make sure that I would have a good life, and we never resorted to what some did. But sometimes people have no choice but to cross the border illegally. There is extreme poverty, crime, and little or no education in the town I grew up in and many more places in Mexico, and I thank God every day for my fortune."

"But people here don't have to be so mean. I mean, they'd want to escape their country too if it was dangerous and poor," my daughter replied cleverly.

"That's true. I guess some people really don't know how fortunate they are. _Pero eso es la vida_ (but that's life)."

Leah stood in deep thought for a moment before wrapping her arms around my waist.

"I'm proud to be Mexican, Mama," she said, beaming up at me.

"That's my _Nena..._ Hey, how about we have a Girl's Day Out and go to the salon? We can get our hair done and get matching mani-pedis, and go to the spa afterwards. It'll be just the two of us."

Knowing that she could not pass up such a tempting offer, Leah nodded eagerly and said, "You don't have to tell me twice. Let's go!"

If there was one thing to be said about my daughter, it was that she was just like me: smart, courageous, loving and proud of her heritage. And there was nothing that could change our relationship.

**~WYLS~**

**One Month Later**

**Troy**

Now that I had become fully settled into my new job, I usually joined my coworkers during our lunch break to eat and talk about life in general. Mark and his friend Jason were the most welcoming to me, and I felt that I really fit in with them.

We could all relate to the stresses of work and home, which soon led us to discuss the methods we used to keep the edge off.

"For me a few drinks at the bar are enough to keep me satisfied. What about you, Bolton?" Jason asked.

"My beautiful, sexy, and might I add flexible wife is all I need to stay stress-free. And let me tell you... I'm pretty sure her relatives can hear her screaming all the way in Mexico."

"Ohh, she's Latina, huh? I didn't know you were into Spanish women."

"I love my wife. She's sharp, feisty and passionate, and she has curves that can knock anyone out. That's the added bonus," I chuckled.

"I don't know about you guys, but I get tired of my girl sometimes. Women are tricky, you know? You smoke, Troy? I know Jason does," Mark said.

"Probably for about two years—when I was 14 and 15. I quit after I met my wife."

"Two years? No wonder you're so stressed. I was a pothead in high school; smoked or sniffed anything that could get me high. It's not as bad as back then but when I get off the clock, I sit in my car, smoke a little weed, chug a few beers and I'm good to go."

I couldn't help but let my features sink. If there was one thing I could tolerate about smoking, it was the slight exception I had for cigarettes only. Drug use on the other hand was unacceptable to me.

I never expected to find myself associating with a man who broke the law, especially one who knew how to hide it very well.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far because I've got a family to think about. I can't do things that are going to hurt them," I said reasonably.

Yet Mark did not seem to care, and simply patted me on the back.

"I'm not saying to get addicted to it. But I'll give you the hook-up and you can try some. What harm can one little blunt do?"

As I exchanged indecisive glances with Jason, something in his eyes told me not to listen to Mark. Suddenly I felt as if I was back in high school, on the verge of succumbing to peer pressure like I did back then.

"Come on, don't tell me you're chickening out like Jason over here," he taunted.

Before I could refuse again, my cell phone began to vibrate against the table and I quickly dismissed myself. I had my wife to thank for my escape.

"Gabi, what's up?" I responded cheerfully, but she was anything but content.

"'What's up?' Do you mean to tell me that you forgot?"

"Forgot what?"

"This morning I asked you to reschedule Leah's doctor appointment because I would be too busy to call. Now when I finally did get the chance to call, they told me that our spot was taken and that the only available date this month was on the 20th. Troy, tell me what is happening on the 20th?" she demanded.

When the discussion we had this morning finally came back to me, it was too late.

"Nationals."

"Exactly! Leah's team is going to be in Las Vegas on that day. She doesn't want to stay here just to go to the doctor, she wants to go to Nationals! This was the second chance we had of rescheduling and you blew it. It's like you don't care about your own daughter's health."

"I do care about our daughter, Gabriella. And I care about you. The thought just slipped my mind because my boss told me to take care of something. But calm down, baby. It's not the end of the world. A month without a doctor's visit won't hurt her," I said calmly.

But my words only made her even more furious.

_"¡No me digas que se calme! ¡Somos su primera prioridad, no ese trabajo estúpido!_ I can't believe you!"

"What the hell are you talking about? You and Leah _are_ my first priority. Why do you think I even have a job in the first place? I have to provide for my family so we don't end up homeless on the streets. Maybe if _you_ went out and got a job, you'd understand how much I have to do."

From the shocked gasp that ensued, I knew that I had taken things too far.

"Wait, Gabi. That's not what I—"

_"Don't!_ You can think about your mistake when you're sleeping in the den tonight, because I don't want you anywhere near me when you come home."

And with that, the line clicked off with a slam of the phone. Now I was stressed.

As I dejectedly made my way back to my coworkers, Mark gave me a silent glance as if to prove that he was right. But I still vowed to never resort to his methods of dealing with life.

All I needed to do was apologize to my wife and make things right again.

**~WYLS~**

That evening as I returned home, I came to discover that my wife's grudge about the appointment only grew worse. When I snaked my arms around her waist, she pried herself from my grip and escaped to the next room.

"Don't touch me. I'm serious," she said indifferently.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, but it's not easy being the breadwinner of the family. There's so much I have to do in so little time, and it does get stressful sometimes."

"So, what is it—do you want me to get a job? Will that make you feel better?"

"No, I'm not telling you to get a job. Just try to understand from my perspective, okay? I'm only one person. Please don't be upset with me," I pleaded.

Also in no mood to argue, Gabriella sighed to herself and raised her palms in surrender.

"All right, I get it. I won't complain anymore... Um, I made dinner for you and Leah. I'll be in the shower if anyone needs me," she replied mechanically, failing to mask her despondency.

Before I could coerce her to talk to me, my wife disappeared upstairs just as Leah strolled past her.

"What's wrong with Mama?"

"Uhh, she's upset because I forgot to reschedule your doctor's appointment. The only available date this month is the 20th but I know that we'll be gone for the week because of Nationals. She was hysterical, and I made the mistake of telling her to calm down," I explained while grabbing plates from the cupboard.

"Oh, boy. What did she say? She must have been pissed."

"She started yelling at me in Spanish so I definitely knew that she was angry. She said that the both of you were my first priority and not my job. And here's where I went wrong. I said that she would understand if she went out and got her own job."

"Wow, no wonder she was putting blankets and pillows in the den. Good luck getting her to accept your apology after that," Leah giggled.

Knowing how difficult it would be to convince my wife to tell me how she really felt, I was going to need more than just luck.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

I hated watching my parents argue and seeing them upset with each other. They were the most understanding, passionate and happiest couple I knew, yet their troubles sometimes caused me immense fear.

Almost all of my friends' parents were either separated or divorced because of the most insignificant of disagreements, and I did not want to see my parents go down the same path. As their daughter, it was my duty to keep them together.

While my poor father lay fast asleep in the den, I stepped into the bedroom to investigate, where my mother remained engaged in a thick novel. She removed her reading glasses in perplexity, possibly wondering what I was doing up after midnight.

"Leah, what are you doing up at this hour? You have school tomorrow," she whispered.

"I know, but I couldn't sleep. There's a lot on my mind right now."

Excusing my late-night company, my mother pulled me onto the bed and engulfed me in her arms.

"Oh, really? _Dime_ (tell me)."

"Well, it's about you and Dad. He told me about the argument you had earlier and to be honest, it scared me," I admitted.

"Why?"

"Because I just... I want you guys to be together forever. Isn't that the point of marriage? I hate it when you argue with Daddy."

Unable to bear seeing me upset, my mother embraced me even tighter and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"We've had our share of arguments in the past but it doesn't mean that we don't love each other. I love your father very much, and just because we fight sometimes it doesn't change the way we feel about each other. Don't be scared, _Nena._ We will never split apart," she replied, gently cupping my face between her palms.

"Promise?"

"I promise, _mija... _In fact, I have a proposition for you. I'll go make up with your father if you go to bed right now."

Without another word, I kissed my mother and skipped off to my room.

At that moment, knowing that my parents were going to be happy again was all I needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

**~WYLS~**

The next day at practice, I knew that nothing was going to be more intimidating than facing my friend after hearing about her unknown pregnancy.

I wasn't going to anyway, since Mr. Pérez decided to take his daughter out of school and teach her at home. My coach was extremely shocked in particular, because just like my parents, she thought that Jenny was an outstanding student compared to other people her age. Unfortunately, she was just like other people her age.

Yet for some of the girls on my team, the news came as no surprise.

"We all knew this was going to happen. She's a slut anyway," Maggie, a high schooler on my team, scoffed to her friends under her breath.

Although Jenny was not there to listen to the harsh dig, I took offense to her comment and prepared to defend my best friend.

"Hey, Maggie, that wasn't a very nice thing to say."

"Okay, I know that she's your friend and all, but it's true. She was the only girl at school who slept around with all those boys. What else should I call her?"

"But you used to be so nice to her. Why would you talk about her behind her back?" I replied.

For a moment, we grew silent as the coach strolled by, hastily reminding us to finish our stretches.

"Because she's a backstabbing bitch, and fake as hell. She had sex with my ex-boyfriend after she promised me she wouldn't go near him. That was the day after we broke up."

"But that's no reason to be angry at her. You two broke up anyway."

"Look, I don't think you understand. You're still in junior high. I'm in high school so I have more knowledge about relationships in my right pinky than you do in your whole body. I was with Jason for two years and she knew how much I liked him. So until _you_ turn fifteen and get_ your_ own boyfriend, don't tell me what I should or shouldn't say..."

Slowly, the wall of girls continued to bear down on me like a barricade. Now that the cheer captain was gone, the real Queen Bee was taking over.

"What am I saying? Your parents don't let you out of the house without freaking the hell out. But it doesn't matter. No guy wants to go out with a little boarder hopper like you," Maggie sneered as her friends snickered along.

At that moment, I needed more than a friend to ease the utter humiliation I'd come to face.

Knowing that crying in front of them would add further damage to my embarrassment; I quickly pushed past the girls and escaped to the locker room. With no one in sight to see my tears, I wept on the floor of the bathroom in distress.

Being different than everyone else was frustrating because there were not much people like me—in other words, Latino—in my private school. Jenny was the only person who understood the prejudice I had to face on a daily basis, and although she did not have the highest moral standards, knowing that she felt my pain was enough. She was my only real friend, and now I wasn't even allowed to see her again.

Too ashamed to get up and face Maggie and her friends, I wiped away the rest of my tears and marched upstairs. I had to do the unthinkable to get away: talk back to my coach. In my eyes, cheerleading coaches were worse than football and basketball coaches combined.

Before leaving the locker room, I took a deep breath, opened the doors and slowly approached her. As Mrs. Carson spun around, her intimidating gaze nearly caused me to stop in my tracks.

"Leah, where the hell were you? You're the flyer. You were supposed to be in your position five minutes ago!" she shouted across the gym.

"I-I was doing something."

"You shouldn't be doing _anything_ else at this moment besides getting your butt on top of that pyramid! That's it! Fifty push-ups, right now!"

So far it was the most trouble I'd ever gotten in with my coach, but the penalty did not get me kicked out of the gym completely.

"Well, maybe if you didn't bark at me like a freaking dog I would've listened to you," I murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

My teammates gasped in shock at my bold statement, and they anxiously looked on as the coach stepped towards me. Had we been the only two people occupying the area, she certainly would've slapped me. No one had ever talked to her the way I did.

_"What did you say?"_ she bellowed sharply, causing me to flinch.

"You yell at me all the time! I never do anything wrong."

"All right, you're done. I'm sick of your little attitude! Go outside and run around the track until you can come up with a proper apology, because this is just unacceptable!"

Satisfied at my efforts, I spun around and left the gym in a huff. Of course, I wasn't really angry. I just needed to work on making better excuses.

**~WYLS~**

**Gabriella**

"You did what?" I exclaimed after listening to the shocking news I'd received courtesy of my daughter.

"I quit the cheerleading team."

"Why? Tell me why you just suddenly decided to quit."

"Well, this might sound stupid but... I quit because Coach Carson yelled at me," she explained.

"So what? She yells at you all the time. Why was today any different?"

Slightly hesitating, Leah plucked a string from her jeans and rolled it between her fingers.

"Maggie and her stupid friends got to me today, and it really upset me. Even though I know that I'm not supposed to mention Jenny around here, she was my best friend and when they started calling her names, I got offended. Then they made fun of me and Maggie said that I was a boarder hopper. I talked back to Mrs. Carson because I just wanted to get out. I'm sick of it," she said wiping away frustrated tears.

"Oh, honey. You can't let worthless people like them run your life. They can say whatever they want about you but you have the power to ignore them because it just isn't true. It shouldn't get in the way of doing what you truly love."

"You always encourage me to do what I truly love, Mami. But cheerleading wasn't it. To be honest, I only used my gymnastics training to get noticed... I feel so ashamed," my daughter finally confessed.

"Then what _do _you truly love?"

As Leah gazed into my eyes with conviction, I discovered that she had acquired a crippling fear of rejection. But she decided to tell me anyway because she knew that I knew that I would support her decisions no matter what.

"Dance. I want to dance, Mama."

"Sweetie, why didn't you tell me? You stopped when you were nine. I thought you were done," I replied.

"I thought I was, too. But there's nothing like being onstage and showing people your inner emotions. I only quit because I overhead Daddy saying one night that he didn't approve of me dancing while I was going through puberty. I guess I didn't want to disappoint him, so I moved onto something else to make him happy. Dancing is something I want to do for the rest of my life, and I'll just be crushed if he doesn't accept."

No longer able to fight back the tears, Leah buried her face in my chest and sobbed.

Listening to her heartbreaking confession caused me more pain than anything else. She did not have to seek her father's approval to do anything that was important to her because he always supported her in whatever she did. She only felt the need to adjust her interests to accommodate his high expectations. But Troy loved and accepted his daughter either way.

"Leah, your father loves you. Just because you choose something that he may not approve of doesn't mean that he'll stop loving you. Believe me, he will be the very first to cheer you on in whatever you decide to do with your life. And I'll be right beside him, okay, Angel?" I said, swiping her tears away with the pad of my thumb.

"I know you will, Mama. I know."

That evening as we contemplated ways of breaking the news lightly to Troy, I knew that either way he wouldn't like what he was hearing. I was not afraid of my husband, but his obsession with regulation at times left room for concern. It was not until we heard footsteps approaching the living room that Leah decided to tell him by herself.

If Leah wanted to prove her maturity by standing up to her father, then she would do anything.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

Against my better judgment, I decided to appease my coworkers' irritating pleads by accompanying them on a short jaunt to the bar. Armed with nothing more than my usual excuse—"I have a family to think about," they grew tired of my cover-up and thrust a bottle of beer under my nose.

Mark continued his efforts of convincing me that it would do no harm to smoke a little bit of marijuana with him. But the more I denied his offer the harder he pressed. By the time I finished my second bottle, the minuscule buzz I'd developed had me aching to get home. Still well enough to drive, I escaped my tipsy colleague before he could purchase another round for me and the guys.

"Looks like I'm going to have to be the one to drive his drunk ass home... Take it easy, man," Jason bid me as I left the bar.

"All right. See you tomorrow."

I knew that my wife was going to have my neck once I returned home with the scent of beer on my breath, but after listening to Mark's nonstop persuading all evening I could care less if she decided to lock me out of the house.

"Leah? Gabi? I'm home," I announced once I stepped over the threshold.

Something strange began once Gabriella sailed down the stairs alone. Leah was nowhere to be found.

Another reason I assumed that I'd been dropped on an alternate universe was when my wife kissed me and said, "Oh, you went to the bar... Well, at least you're relaxed."

Now relieved of the fear that she would not kill me that night, I willingly took her hand as she slowly guided me up the stairs.

"Gabriella, care to tell me what's going on? Where's Leah?"

Stopping short of the last step, my wife turned around and spoke to me in a hushed tone.

"She's in her room. She wants to tell you something, but right now I'm begging you to just please, please listen to what she has to say. I don't want her to end up heartbroken. Just listen to her, okay?"

"Um, okay," I replied, unknowing as to what my daughter was preparing to tell me.

Reluctantly, I took a seat on the edge of her bed while Gabriella looked from the corner of the room.

That was when Leah appeared from her closet wearing one of her old dance costumes. I knew exactly what this was about.

"How do I look, Papi?" she asked timidly.

"You look beautiful, Angel. Very beautiful."

"I know. You used to tell me that I looked beautiful before I went onstage at every competition. Whenever you said that I felt so invincible and confident that remarkably, I would end up walking away with a trophy every time. Daddy, I want to feel that way again. I want to be happy and if you let me dance again it'll just mean the world to me. I don't want to quit again because you don't approve."

Once again, the high standards I set for my daughter forced her to abandon doing what she loved just to please me. It didn't matter what she wore, how she danced, or the discomfort I felt knowing that there were strangers watching her. If dancing was going to make her happy, then needed to support her despite my petty fears.

"Oh, baby... I'm so sorry. I didn't know how strongly you felt about dancing. You kept this in for so long. Why didn't you tell me?" I questioned.

"Because I was scared that you wouldn't want anything to do with me if I continued doing something that you hated. I knew that my dancing made you uncomfortable after I heard you say it to Mama four years ago."

Frustrated with myself, I sighed and coaxed Leah into my arms.

"I don't hate your dancing, Leah. I never did. Watching you onstage was always magical. The way you used to spin and leap in the air made me proud that I was able to help create something so perfect. My stupid worries shouldn't get in the way of you pursuing your dreams. My opinions don't matter if it's something that's so important to you. I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

To have my consent must have meant the world and more to my daughter. Not only did I allow her to continue dance because it made her happy, but because it made me happy as well.

Leah was captivating onstage, exposing her deepest and most secreted emotions to people whom she never knew. Using choreography that required stamina and agility, she would conquer those challenges with the utmost maturity and heart for a child of her age.

Perhaps the best way I could make a connection with my daughter was through dance.

"Thank you so much, Daddy. You have no idea how much this means to me," she sobbed, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"I guess I don't have any idea... You can start tomorrow."

"Okay. And I promise I won't let you down. I'll make you so proud of me."

"I'm already proud of you, Angel."

For my family and I, things were finally looking up. Possibly the only concern that remained was the troubling persistence of my coworker, Mark. If he continued pressuring me to take drugs, I was going to have to take drastic action and fast.

**Tell me your predictions for the next chapter and I'll post it by Monday! I hope you enjoyed and there is much more to come. Thank you very much and please review! Have a great summer ebveryone! :)**


	5. Broken Promises

**Welp, didn't get as much reviews as I'd anticipated but I'm glad I still have the support of some readers. Thank you guys for the support as always! So I read some of your predictions and were you right? I don't know. Let's read to find out. Please enjoy! :) **

**Chapter 5: Broken Promises**

**Gabriella**

Since Leah was so adamant about dancing again, she thought it best to reunite with her old instructor at the Desert Stars dance studio. She seemed genuinely surprised at our return, but immediately welcomed my daughter back with open arms.

"How has our national champion been doing? We missed you so much, Leah. Look how big you've gotten!"

"I missed you, too, Mrs. Mayer. It feels like forever since I've been here," she said.

"Likewise, Sweetie... Gabriella, welcome back. I can't believe what a beautiful young lady your daughter has blossomed into. It's going to be such a pleasure working with you again."

"Well, thank you. But it was all Leah's idea. She truly loves dance and wanted to learn again from the best," I replied.

"That's great! Once we work out a payment plan she can get dressed and we'll get started immediately."

While the instructor and I retreated to her office in the presiding room, Leah gave me one last hug before heading to the dressing room.

Nothing could describe the joy and excitement that illuminated her features once she was immediately rewarded with a solo for an upcoming competition in two months. In a few weeks she would have to learn what she had abandoned four years ago all over again. But she was up for the challenge and eagerly followed her instructor's every order.

"This dance is about a child who is grieving about the loss of her mother. The concept of this dance is to show strength yet fragility. Your character is powerful in everything she does, but occasionally her weaknesses emerge and wear her down. You were great at acting onstage and I want you to keep using your real emotions to portray this character."

"So, you want me to imagine if I lost my mom?" Leah began uneasily.

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure if I can. Just imagining my life without her is hard enough."

Nervously, Leah glanced at me as if silently pleading for my consent.

"It's okay, honey. It's just a dance," I reassured her.

Finding it difficult to get into character, her instructor recommended that I leave the room to make things easier for her. Of course, I wanted to see how my daughter would react, so I shut the door while leaving the slightest crack to peek out of.

With my presence no longer an issue, Mrs. Mayer told Leah to sit in the middle of the floor facing the mirror, and instructed her to shut her eyes.

"We're going to do an exercise, okay?"

"… Okay," she replied uncertainly.

"Try to picture your life without your mother. Is there anything you'd miss about her?"

"I'd miss a lot about her. Like her green eyes and her smile and her voice. She's beautiful."

Touched at my daughter's affection for me, I quickly became emotional.

"What else?" the instructor pressed.

"I'd miss her laugh and the way she calls me _'Nena.'_ I'd especially miss the way she rubs my back and whispers to me at night. She thinks I'm sleeping but I'm really just listening to her speak to me in Spanish. The way she curls my hair around her fingers makes me melt."

Gradually it seemed as though Angie had struck a nerve, and her voice reduced to a whispering tone.

"If I ever lost my mom I don't know what I'd do. I'll definitely use up all my tears. Maybe I'd just curl up in bed and wish for her to come back until my head hurt. I love her so much," Leah said, her voice cracking.

As I wiped my own tears to get a better view, I noticed a single bead of liquid slide down my daughter's cheek. She was also crying.

"So, can you just imagine the pain of never being able to hug her or kiss her ever again? Can you imagine her not being there to rub your back or talk to you?"

"I-I don't want to. She won't leave me ever."

"But what if she did, Leah? You can't control life or destiny," the instructor said.

Once the thought became too real, Leah opened her eyes and searched for me in panic.

"Mama?"

Letting her know that I was still there, I burst into the room and fell to the floor to embrace my frantic daughter. Hugging me with all the strength she had, Leah rest her head against my shoulder and sobbed.

"I'm here, baby. Mama's here. I'll never leave you... I promise," I whispered to her.

Knowing just how much pain my daughter would feel if I were to die was the most heartfelt truth I'd ever come to realize.

Needless to say, Mrs. Mayer's method had worked much better than she anticipated. Now equipped with the emotion she needed to channel her character, Leah could finally dance.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

"And she broke down just like that?"

"Yeah. It's scary the way her imagination just ran wild... My poor baby. She started looking for me as if I was really gone," my wife said with a pout.

"Why would Angie even make her think about something like that? That's morbid!" I exclaimed softly.

"Because, she has to portray a character whose mom died. By the end of practice she was very convincing."

If there was one thing I remembered most about Leah's dance instructor, it was her choice in choreography. Back when my daughter used to compete full-time, I always questioned why she was assigned dances that were years beyond her comprehension.

As if wearing costumes that exposed her midsection weren't enough to make me squirm uncomfortably in my seat, watching my nine-year-old daughter play mature, somber roles or flirty, borderline sensual roles increasingly became a concern for me. Although Leah walked away with national titles every time, I was ready to see her walk away from dancing forever. But if that was what she truly wanted, I had to support her decisions no matter what.

"Well, at least she's not playing a burlesque dancer this time," I scoffed to myself jokingly.

But Gabriella suddenly became curious as to why I would say something like that.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Gabi. Do you remember those numbers when Leah used to be dressed like a showgirl in those flashy costumes? I was just kidding, though."

"Those were just jazz dances with a theater theme. Leah loved the choreography," she replied.

"She loved it? _I _sure didn't love watching her flirt with the judges or do any of those sassy moves."

"Troy, we talked about this! You said that you weren't going to worry anymore," she said in frustration.

"I'm not worried, I'm not. It's just that sometimes the dances are slightly risqué for someone her age."

"There are kids in the first grade who dance at the same level as her. Their parents don't seem to mind," Gabriella argued.

"That's because those people prefer to let their daughters seduce the audience. I tend to be uncomfortable with that kind of thing."

Not in the mood to fight, my wife stepped into the next room shaking her head.

"I honestly have no idea how your mind works sometimes. Only you would look at your daughter dancing onstage and think that there's some kind of pedophile in the audience. Angie wants her dancers to stand out and if that requires a little more charm, who's going to stop her?"

Had Leah not been so excited about dancing again, I would've immediately accepted the challenge.

Unwilling to swallow my pride, I advanced towards the closet to arrange my suit for the night.

"I don't have time for this. I've got to be somewhere."

"Good. And when you get back don't even think about stepping foot in this house. You can sleep in the damn garage for all I care!" she retaliated before storming out of the room.

In less than an hour I was supposed to be heading to the city to celebrate a successful partnership with employees from my job. Arguing with my wife was not a good way to start to my night at all.

To make matters worse, I had to face Mark again.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

Whenever my parents got into a serious argument, I often escaped trouble by retreating to the hammock in the backyard.

I was slightly disappointed in my dad for thinking that my dance instructor assigned me with nothing but provocative characters and tasteless choreography, when in reality she was just trying to make me a great dancer. He didn't understand anything about the costumes or the music; the way I would connect with the audience. All he saw was makeup, glitter and suggestive movements.

Just once would I like to see my father cheer me on, instead of worrying about the next person who was out to "get me."

"Leah? Leah, where are you?" I heard my mother call from the patio.

"I'm out here, Mama!"

She knew exactly what was on my mind once she found me lying on the hammock.

"Thinking again?"

"Yeah. I couldn't listen you guys fight for another minute," I said frankly.

"Trust me, it wasn't that great for me either."

Silently, I shifted near the other side of the hammock to let my mother lie beside me. I couldn't help releasing a giggle as she pulled me on top of her.

"Thirteen years old and you're still light as a feather," she said, failing to mask the strain in her voice.

"No, I'm not. You just don't want to admit that I'm squishing you."

"That I won't. But you're still my little baby girl."

I grinned once she planted a kiss on my forehead and cooed. When the playful conversation died down, we both glanced at the starry landscape above our heads.

Eventually I sighed and said, "Do you think Papa will ever get over trying to protect me from the world? I'm not some kind of precious gem, you know."

"Well, to him, you are. The truth is, fathers will always be super-protective of their daughters, especially knowing that there are people out there who could care less about them. Your father and I would hate to see you get hurt," my mother replied seriously.

"I know. I guess I won't understand until I have a child of my own."

With a soft chuckle, she smoothed my hair back affectionately.

"This, I'm hoping, won't be for a very long time. Am I right?"

"Right!" I repeated cheerfully.

That was when she glanced towards the house and made a spontaneous decision.

"Why don't we rent some movies, huh? There's plenty junk food in the pantry and we can have our own little campout in the living room," she suggested while giving me a nudge.

As the more playful parent, my mother often made decisions on a whim whenever she wanted to spend quality time with me. Whether it was a trip to an amusement park or a concert, she always reminded me how special I was to her and how much she loved me.

It was then that I realized that Jenny was never my best friend to begin with. If anyone was my best friend, it was my mother.

**~WYLS~**

**Later That Night**

Since my mother wanted to spend the rest of the night with me watching movies, we did exactly that. Huddled beneath a blanket on the carpet, we laughed, ate tons of candy, and even threw popcorn at each other hoping to catch it in our mouths.

As I turned my attention back to the television, I wondered when my father was going to return from his staff party.

"When do you think Papa will be home?"

My mother shifted her gaze towards the clock that hung from the wall and shrugged.

"I don't know, _Nena._ It's almost one o'clock so he should be back soon. You know what a long drive it is from the city," she said.

Without another worry, we continued to watch the movie, not realizing that we were slowly drifting off to sleep. I sensed that I'd blacked out a few times once the film seemed to skip a few scenes, but I was determined not to fall asleep.

Suddenly, a loud banging on the front door had me clutching my mother's arm in fright. As it turned out, she was also ready for bed and yawned as she sat up to answer the door.

"Wait, Mama! What if it's a burglar or something?" I hissed frantically.

After taking a glance through the window, she turned back to me and said, "Or it could just be your father waiting to get in... I was going to kick him out but I can't stay mad at him."

But once my mother opened the door, we both realized that something was very wrong. Jumping from the couch to get a better look, I approached the foyer only to see my father leaning against the door frame.

"Troy, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Instead of responding, he brushed past her and kicked his shoes off, stumbling into the wall by accident.

"You're drunk! Are you out of your freaking mind? How many times have I told you not to drive drunk? You better be glad a cop didn't pull you over!" she scolded him, angrier than ever.

Calmly, he ignored her again and peeled his jacket off, revealing the second reason for his late arrival.

"You were smoking? What were you smoking? It sure doesn't smell like cigarettes."

"Shut the hell up, Gabi," he murmured, which angered her even more.

_"Excuse me?_ I have had it with you, Troy! Tell me why you were smoking right now!" she demanded.

Still no answer. But my mother remained hot on his heels as he began to cross the living room in pursuit of the stairs. Blocking his path, she quickly pushed him away from the staircase.

"Oh-no! You are not going into my bedroom like that. I asked you why you were smoking. Answer me, Troy!"

Before I knew it, my father had silenced my mother with one swift motion of his hand. The force of the slap sent her crashing into the coffee table, causing me to flinch.

I couldn't believe what I'd witnessed. Quickly rushing to her side, I did not know what to do once she began to sob hysterically. She writhed on the floor in pain as the searing pain seemed to worsen.

"Mind your own damn business," he growled before stalking up the stairs.

Also left in tears after watching the traumatic incident, I embraced my mother and held her tightly.

The man who just walked through that door was not my father. The man I knew promised that he would never hurt us for as long as he lived. That man couldn't have been Troy Bolton, because he never broke promises. That man was a monster.

**~WYLS~**

**Gabriella**

How could I have been so wrong about Troy?

He was the most compassionate, gentlest and loving person I had ever known, but after last night I doubted that it was true anymore. Worst of all, he broke his promise to me that he would never hurt me. Now I feared that my daughter was next if he continued to drink or smoke.

I couldn't face him after he hit me. Much too petrified to set foot upstairs, Leah and I remained on the sofa for the rest of the night. But neither of us slept.

At one point during the night, I found myself sneaking past our bedroom in search of relief. As I entered the hallway bathroom, avoiding the mirror was easier said than done. It was difficult to look past the bright red streak fading on my cheek. The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I couldn't let my daughter see me in such a weakened state. I was supposed to be strong for her.

The privacy of the bathroom gave me all the confidence I needed to waste my tears. I cried because I was hurt and angry. Most of all, I cried because I was afraid that my husband would fall into the destructive habit of hurting us.

Once Troy had awakened to get ready for work, he did not seem to remember anything about the incident. I froze in place as he entered the kitchen pinching his eyelids together.

"God, I have such a headache," he groaned to himself, making a path towards the coffee maker.

But not without giving me a proper greeting. My breaths reduced to shudders as he placed his palms on either side of my hips and placed a kiss behind my ear.

"Good morning, Beautiful. You are looking extra irresistible today."

Hoping to keep him in a good mood, I figured that waiting on him was the best way to do so.

"Good morning, Troy. How do you want your coffee?" I asked, which quickly aroused his suspicions.

"You've never offered to make me coffee before. What's going on?"

"Nothing. It's not uncommon for a wife to make coffee for her husband, is it?"

Finding my hushed tone strange, Troy gently cupped my face between his and gazed deep into my eyes. On the other hand, I found it difficult looking into his. Never before had I felt so insecure around my husband.

"What's wrong?" he questioned softly.

A chill climbed my spine as he gently traced his thumbs across my cheekbones. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice me flinch against his touch.

"Nothing, really. I'm still just a little tired... That's all."

Not fully convinced, Troy placed a soft kiss on my lips and embraced me.

"If this is about the fight we had before I left, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about Leah, you know. I never meant to hurt your feelings," he murmured into my curls.

Getting hurt emotionally was the very least of my worries at that point.

"No, it's okay. I also said some things I didn't mean, so I forgive you."

Unfortunately, I was not sure if I could forgive him for hitting me.

"I love you, Gabi."

"I love you, too," I replied halfheartedly.

"Now, how would you like me to make breakfast for you and Leah? Name whatever you'd like and I'll make it," my husband eagerly offered.

For a moment, we paused at the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen. That only meant that Leah was up, and there was no telling how she would react when facing her father.

"Mama, why didn't you wake me...?"

Once my daughter stepped into the kitchen, she froze as if she were a deer caught in headlights. I had never seen her so petrified.

"Well, good morning, Sleepyhead. Did you sleep well?"

"Y-Yes, Daddy."

"Well, don't just stand there. Come here and give me a hug!" he grinned.

Hesitantly, Leah slowly began to approach her father as he opened his arms in welcome. Suddenly her foot became caught in one of the barstools, which sent her tumbling to the floor. As she reached for the counter to break her fall, she managed to accidentally knock one of Troy's favorite mugs off the other side of the island before landing on her hands.

Although he was preparing to help her up, Leah shrunk against the corner fearing that he was going to strike her, and burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry! Please don't be mad at me!" she pleaded, which Troy found to be outrageous.

"Why would I be mad at you? It was an accident. Don't cry."

As my husband attempted to touch her again, she only scrambled to her feet and ran away sobbing.

"What just happened?" he asked me, genuinely confused.

I couldn't tell him the truth. If I told him that he slapped me while he was drunk, he would never forgive himself for it.

Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I don't know."

Perhaps if I left him alone to contemplate his own thoughts, he would figure out where he went wrong.

"On second thought I'm not very hungry anymore. I'm going to go upstairs and take a shower, so have a good day at work."

Clearly hurt, my husband dejectedly rest the skillet down and nodded.

"Thanks, Sweetie. I'll see you later, I guess."

"I love you," I replied silently as he collected his keys near the door.

Without a word, Troy dropped his briefcase and came up the stairs. He captured my lips in a passionate kiss while engulfing me in his arms.

I kissed him just as passionately because somewhere in the back of my mind, I feared that it would be one of the last times I'd get to share such a special moment with my husband.

"I love you, too. If I wasn't heading to work now I'd make love to you all morning," he breathed huskily.

"Maybe you can later... Please come straight home."

His eyes scanning my body in hunger, he gave me another kiss and nodded.

"You got it."

As my husband disappeared through the door, I held out the slightest hope that this would be his first and last slip-up. Drugs and alcohol turned him into someone he wasn't, and he had no knowledge of the impact his carelessness had on me and his daughter.

If he continued to go down the path of destruction, I was worried that he would never stop hurting us.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

The night before seemed to pass me by in a complete blur. I did not remember much except for the argument I had with my wife and the few celebratory drinks I shared with my co-workers at the party. I didn't think that I had too much to drink, until I woke up with an unbearable hangover.

It was not like me to drink irresponsibly, so I became very concerned once I observed strange behavior from my wife and daughter that morning. It began when Gabriella offered to make me coffee. Although I usually insisted on making my own coffee, she mechanically agreed to handle the task for me. I found it strange that she urged to make it for me even though it was clear that she didn't want to.

What had I done the night before that forced her to make the sudden request?

I'd received my second clue once Leah had awakened. She stopped short of the kitchen once our eyes met, and immediately grew uneasy. Thinking that she was just groggy I decided that giving her a hug would be the best way to start the day. Clearly reluctant, she began to inch her way towards me when she tripped and fell to the floor, shattering my mug in the process.

But I became extremely concerned once she cowered on the floor and pleaded with me not to become angry. It was not very common of me to become mad at my daughter, yet she acted as though I was going to have an outburst. Now this made me question what I had done to them while I was under the influence.

Whatever I did, I hoped that I hadn't broken the most important promise I'd ever made to my wife and child.

Still deep in contemplation, I hardly noticed Mark as he slithered beside my desk.

"There's my man! What's up, Party Animal?" he said loudly, which forced me to shush him before he attracted attention.

"Damn it, Mark! Keep your voice down."

"I'm just saying, I had no idea you could hang like me. You must have a stomach made of cast iron."

"What are you talking about? I only had two drinks and a shot of vodka," I replied discreetly.

That was when Mark leaned close to me and let me in on a shocking secret.

"After the Angel Dust you were tossing back shots like no one's business."

_"PCP?_ You put drugs into my drink? Are you out of your freaking mind, Mark?"

"Shh! Don't freak out. It was just a little something I used to get you in the partying mood. And, man, did you loosen up a lot!" he chuckled.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I simply refused it. A co-worker, someone whom I was supposed to trust, betrayed my reliance in him and put my life at risk for a cheap thrill.

"Besides poisoning my system with drugs, what else did you do, Mark? Because I know that you must've convinced me to do something I wouldn't condone if I were sober."

"Well, you said you used to smoke, right? But I bet you've never had the magic green like I use. You liked it when I gave it to you at the bar. You were puffing that thing like a pro," he said.

As if it were not bad enough listening to Mark reveal that he put drugs in my drinks, I became outraged at the thought of him taking advantage of me while I was under the influence.

"That's it! I'm going to report you to the boss," I said, and attempted to rise from my seat.

But Mark quickly forced me back down to stop me from revealing his secret, scrambling to save himself from potential ruin.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry for what I did and I won't do it again. But you can't rat me out," he said frantically.

"And why not?"

"Because I... Look, I'm trying to stop doing drugs—I really am. But it's so damn hard that I end up going to bed high almost every night. You've gotta help me out, Bolton."

While releasing a sigh, I couldn't imagine how Mark would be able to earn my trust back if I had to protect his secret. To get caught would destroy my life and most importantly my family. But when someone was in need of help, I'd always be the first to step up.

"What do you want me to do?"

That was when Mark discreetly pulled a tiny sandwich bag containing several pills and green leaves from his pocket and placed it into my hand.

"I need you to keep this for me."

"What? No! I refuse to bring drugs into my home. Not after my wife and daughter were acting strange around me. Something happened between us last night, and I don't remember what I did to them but I sure as hell don't want it to happen again."

"Troy, please! I promise that it's just for tonight. I'll return the favor; I-I'll do anything you want me to do. Please do this one favor for me and you'll never have to do anything for me ever again," he pleaded, desperation evident in his features.

"For the last time, Mark, no! There's absolutely nothing you can do to convince me otherwise. Take these back and find somewhere else to dump them."

"There you are, Bolton! I was just looking for you!" chirped the sudden voice of our boss, which caused us to jump.

As he began to approach my office, Mark tossed the bag of drugs back on my desk and escaped to his cubicle before I could catch him.

"Thanks, man," he whispered on the way out.

On the other hand, my boss was making his way towards my desk while the drugs remained right in front of me. Thinking quickly I grabbed the drugs and buried them deep into my pocket right before he stopped in my doorway.

"Hello, Mr. Edison. Did you need me for anything, sir?" I asked casually.

"No need to call me Mr. Edison. You're one of my best employees. Call me Eddie, or just Edison if that makes you happy."

"All right, then... Eddie."

"There you go. Now, the owner of Santa Fe Assurance wants to discuss business with me and the owner is this company over lunch at one of his fancy places. And since you seem to know what will get this company back to the top, I'm going to have you tell them your ideas. I'll give you a raise if you want to join. What do you say?" my boss offered.

"There's no need to give me a raise. But I'm flattered that you even considered letting me tag along with you. Of course I'll join you."

"Great! I can't wait to introduce you to them. Let's go."

As my boss eagerly guided me towards the door, I prayed that Mark would be able to straighten out his life before it was too late, and that this would be the only night I'd keep his secret. My family was much more important to me than what was in that bag, and I was not about to let it run my life.

It was times like those that made me hate being so sympathetic.

**What do you think? Should Troy report Mark or keep the drugs for "just one night?" Should Gabriella tell him what happened? Let me know how I should continue and I'll be back with lots more. Thanks for reading and review pretty please! **


	6. Hurt

**Thank you so much for your support so far. Reading your wonderful reviews has only pushed me to make sure that you receive the best chapters I can create. Now, I know that most of you told me that Troy should not listen to Mark so read and find out what I did. Please enjoy! :D **

**Chapter 6: Hurt**

**Troy**

That evening as I returned home from work, I found my wife taking a well-deserved nap in the bedroom while Leah remained downstairs watching television. I hated seeing Gabriella so exhausted whenever she spent the day running errands or tending to the house.

Being a stay-at-home parent was far from easy, yet she believed that it was her absolute obligation to devote her full attention to me and Leah. My wife deserved a lot more gratitude than I gave her, and holding drugs for someone I hardly knew was not the way to do it.

As I let my fingers slide through her curls, Gabriella gently stirred with a moan. Knowing that it was me, she smiled before opening her eyes. Those green orbs melted like butter against my gaze.

"I always get goosebumps when you do that… Hi, baby," she murmured.

While pulling me into a kiss, my wife quickly unfastened the first two buttons of my shirt.

"How was your day, Handsome?"

"It was okay; boring as always. What did you do today?" I asked her.

"Well, I went to the gym and did some yoga. You know, to keep up my flexibility for you."

The giggle she released was as cute as it was tempting. Something was not right. She was trying to distract me. Perhaps she sensed that I was going to ask her what I did the night before that she was reluctant to tell me about. If she wanted a game, then I was going to give her a game all right.

"Gabi, if I'm not mistaken I'd say that you were trying to take my mind off of something."

"No. Why would you think that?" she replied innocently.

Reluctantly I found myself swallowing hard as she slipped the straps of her nightgown from her shoulders, revealing the pair of rosy halos that drove me insane. Hoping to taunt me with her seductress act, Gabriella slowly maneuvered out of the article before tossing it to the floor. Clad in just a pair of barely-there panties, she then threatened to up the ante.

Refusing to fall for her ploy I said, "You can be as sexy as you want but it's not going to work. Something else is going on that you aren't telling me."

"Why can't we have some fun, Papi? I just want to play with you," she whispered in my ear, which sent a tremor up my spine.

Without another word she rose to her knees and tugged the skimpy article down her thighs. Never before had I been forced to show so much restraint when my wife was seducing me. The woman knew exactly what she was doing.

Before I knew it my naked wife gained the upper hand and pinned me against the mattress before shedding my clothing off piece by piece. When she began to grope my outer thighs, I suddenly remembered what I was holding in one of my pockets. If she were to find the drugs it would certainly be the end of me. As much as it pained me to reject my wife, I couldn't risk blowing my cover once curiosity got the better of her.

"Uh, G-Gabi?" I stammered while she attached her lips to my neck.

"Mmm," she only murmured, her hand slowly creeping towards the crotch of my pants, right beside the drugs.

"Gabriella..."

Before her fingers could feel the impression of the bag, I seized her wrist and put an end to my misery.

"Gabriella, stop," I panted, and sat up on the mattress.

"What's wrong?"

Uneasily, I rubbed the back of my neck in apprehension, not wanting to break my wife's heart.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not in the mood right now. Work was kind of hectic today and I just want to relax. I'm sorry."

By the way her swollen lips began to quiver I could tell that I was going to be very lonely that night.

"But earlier you said that you wanted to make love to me. I thought that's why you came home early," she said dejectedly.

"I know I did, but... not tonight, Sweetie," I replied apologetically.

More humiliated than frustrated, Gabriella gathered her clothing and shoved past me to leave the room. She spun around, revealing the pool of tears that threatened to fall.

"Then why did you wake me?"

Once my wife disappeared down the hall, I sighed to myself as the slam of the guest room door followed. For precautionary measures, I moved the drugs from my pants into my desk in the den and locked it away. Leah had fallen asleep in front of the television, and I gently carried my daughter to her bedroom and rest her onto the bed.

Whenever her mother was upset she seemed to mirror her emotions involuntarily. Pouty lips, tearful eyes; flushed cheeks, just like Gabriella. Lately she feared that our marriage would end up on the rocks. If I kept focusing on my work instead of my family, her fears and my fears would soon turn into a reality.

I just could not stop making mistakes, could I?

**~WYLS~**

By the next morning, nothing seemed to be working in my favor.

First I realized that I had overslept once Gabriella frantically shook me awake, telling me that I was going to be late for work. Apparently both of us were so upset the night before that we never bothered to preset our alarm clocks. Secondly I ended up spilling coffee on my suit, which meant that I had to take another shower and prepare a whole new suit to wear. Lastly as Leah rushed to get ready for school, Gabriella could not get her car to start and was forced to use my car to drop her off. This was a problem because my daughter's school was an hour away from our neighborhood.

Knowing that she was going to be stuck in traffic for at least an hour coming back, my efforts to make it to work on time were lost. After calling the office to let them know that I wasn't going to be there, I remained in my den seething at the frustrating turn of events.

To make matters worse, Mark soon called me about the drugs.

"What, Mark? What is it?" I answered impatiently.

"Jeez, what the hell's your problem? I just wanted to know where you are."

"I'm at home. I couldn't make it to work because I've been having the worst morning. The stupid pills are hidden if you're wondering."

"Okay, good," he sighed in relief.

_"Good?_ Mark, I'm sneaking around and keeping secrets from my family. Yesterday I had to reject my wife just so she wouldn't get suspicious, and she's still mad at me."

"So what? My girl always gets mad at me. She'll get over it."

"Gabriella is my wife and when she's angry I actually listen to what she has to say. You don't care about your relationships. I do! I swear if you destroy my family I will come to your house and fucking kill you. I am done saving your ass. Fix this now!"

For a moment the line went silent, and all I could hear was his shallow breaths.

"You need to relax, Bolton. In fact I know the exact solution for your anger. Why don't you take a few pills; smoke a little weed? That ought to relax you," he proposed.

"Mark! Were you not listening to me? Taking drugs aren't going to solve anything. They just make things worse."

"All right, forget I suggested. Just have them for me tomorrow."

"Hell, no! I'm throwing this garbage out the first chance I get. You can forget me doing any more favors for you! I can't believe I thought you could be trusted in the first place," I spat.

But before I could slam the phone down, Mark let me go with a warning that made me think twice about getting rid of the drugs. I hated the influence he had over me.

"Go ahead—throw them away. I can always get more. But don't think that you can get rid of these things that easily. You may think that throwing them away will make them disappear from your life forever. You're going to ignore it and distract yourself from thinking about it, but you are going to get curious. And you are going to try it and you'll want more. I know how you work, Bolton. You're going to end up just like me... With nothing."

I continued to listen in a daze even as Mark cut off the line chuckling wickedly. He was sick if he thought that I was going to head down the same path as him. Why would I want to risk losing everything that meant the world to me, especially my family?

Determined to take control of my life again, I immediately unlocked the drawer and grabbed the drugs. I then marched out of the room before skipping down the stairs, aiming to dispose of them in the kitchen. Throwing the drugs directly into the trash barrel was not the smartest way to get rid of them, so I decided that dumping the contents down the drain would be the best option.

After turning on the faucet, I pried open the seal to pour them out.

But as I leaned over the sink, the aroma from the marijuana wafted out of the bag and into my nose. I couldn't quite describe the scent. It smelled like a combination of pungent spices and flowers—like nothing I'd ever smelled before. It smelled wonderful.

"No," I murmured to myself. I refused to let my curiosity stop me from thinking rationally.

Desperate to get this over with, I raised the bag above the drain and hastily poured its contents out. Just when I thought that I was going to be freed from this poisonous grip, a sudden, inexplicable force took command of my body and I found myself saving the last few ounces of the drugs.

I didn't know what compelled me to do it but I just could not throw the rest away. It seemed as though I'd acquired an impulsive desire to keep them in my possession.

_Maybe half of the PCP will calm me down. This little experiment possibly can't do any harm,_ I then found myself thinking.

Perhaps it couldn't.

My wife was going to be out all day running errands while my daughter was at school. Since both of them were not returning from Leah's dance practice until 8:00 that evening, there would be plenty of time for the drugs to wear off.

I began to trifle through the utensil drawer in search of a knife. After slicing one of the pills in half, I shoved the bag in my pocket and held it up to my lips. My hands were trembling and my heart was racing. I was scared to death. But I decided that it would be the best time for me to observe my behavior while I was still in slight control of my actions.

"Here goes nothing," I said aloud.

Once I gulped down the PCP without hesitation, I stood and waited for a reaction. There was no immediate reaction so I retired to the couch and switched on the television, lying in wait.

While I mentally counted the number of reasons this test would benefit my family, I also hoped that my experiment was not going to turn into an addiction.

**~WYLS~**

**Later That Afternoon**

**Gabriella**

As I watched my daughter spin and leap around the studio, I couldn't seem to shake my thoughts of the misunderstanding my husband and I had the night before. I was still frustrated at myself for waiting around the house until he came home, only to be rejected by him.

Troy was changing, and I did not like it at all. He had become unpredictable and secretive ever since he showed up at our doorstep under the influence. I lived in constant fear of the next time he would strike me.

Wherever or from whomever he received those drugs, I hoped that he would stop his new habit before it grew any worse. Unfortunately, all I could do was hope.

"Wow! Great job on your turns, Leah! I've never seen a student bounce back as quickly as you have," Angie praised as Leah practiced another sequence of spins.

I had to admit that when my daughter wanted something, she did her absolute best to achieve that goal with as much heart as possible. It was remarkable to see so much dedication and passion in such a young girl. She constantly reminded me of myself when I was her age.

"How do you think I did in ballet class?" she asked nervously.

"How do you think you did?"

"I-I think I did okay."

"Okay?" Angie challenged.

"I guess I did well."

"'You guess?' Leah, you did excellent! You still remember the name of each movement, plus you paid attention during the lesson. I'm very proud of you."

"Oh," she replied in disbelief, "Thank you, Ms. Angie."

"You're welcome, honey. Before you leave I wanted to let you hear the music you will be dancing to. You are dancing to the song 'Mad World' by Gary Jules, and the reason I picked this song was because it depicts the reality of a child who has to face this world without her mother. She realizes that life isn't a fantasy, and that she lives in a flawed system that could care less about her. For your homework I want you to find a black dress. You know where to find them in the mall. Also, you must listen to this in order to feel the dark essence of the lyrics. Tap into your deepest fears and channel your emotions into somewhere you've never been before. And when you come back tomorrow, I want to see a broken girl dancing. Think you can handle it?"

"I can," Leah replied boldly.

"I'm so proud of you already. You are still one of my best dancers," Angie said while embracing my daughter.

Once she was given the CD, we said our goodbyes before heading to the mall. If there was one thing Leah enjoyed just as much as dancing, it was finding a costume for the competition.

"I can't wait to get all of the accessories to go with the dress. Shopping is probably the second reason I love dancing so much," Leah giggled as we drove downtown.

"Shopping is always fun. But we have to hurry because the mall closes in an hour."

"Okay. It's a good thing we know where to go. Do you think the salespeople will recognize us?"

"I don't know. It depends if they're all still working there. It's been almost four years," I said with a shrug.

With little time to spare, Leah and I made a hasty beeline towards the dance apparel store. Luckily, my daughter fell in love with a simple yet expensive black dress and pleaded with me to buy it for her. Without a doubt, she looked beautiful wearing it.

I found it adorable the way she kept promising to pay me back in the future. No matter what the cost, our relationship was worth more than a pricey costume. As I purchased the item at the check-out counter, I only chuckled and kissed her on the forehead.

"You don't owe me a thing, Sweetie," I told her.

Having finished our errand in the nick of time, we hurried out the exit and sped home, excited to show my husband what we had gotten. When Leah used to compete, Troy always enjoyed watching her model the costumes for him once we'd returned home. Granted, his critique came not without its share of concerns regarding the length or style of the costumes, but he was always eager to see her perform onstage.

It had been several years since Leah danced so I had no idea how he would react. The smallest part of me sensed that it was not going to be as positive this time around.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary as I pulled into garage. Through the window I caught a glimpse of my husband watching the news like he always did during that hour. Perhaps he was back to his normal self. Or so I hoped.

"Hey, Troy! How was your day?" I began cheerfully once we stepped through the door.

Unable to contain her excitement, Leah pulled the dress out of the bag and held it up for him to see.

"Look, Daddy! I got my costume for the competition. Do you like it?"

He never broke his gaze from the television.

"Where were you two?" he questioned calmly.

A little too calmly.

"Didn't you hear what I said? Mama bought this dress for me at the mall," my daughter tried.

Finally, Troy shifted his gaze toward us only to reveal darkened, bloodshot eyes. We both took an anxious step backwards.

"I didn't ask you to tell me what you got. Where the hell were you?"

"She just told you. We needed to get a dress for Leah by tomorrow, so we went to the mall and I-I bought it for her," I explained stammering.

Troy seemed to be ten feet tall as he gently rose from the sofa.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? Look at that clock over there and tell me what time it is," he said.

Quickly complying with his demand, I read the time and stammered another reply.

"It-it's after 9:00."

"It's after 9:00. I have been here all day doing nothing while you two decided to have a shopping spree without calling to let me know."

"But, I did call..." I spoke up meekly.

"You what?"

"I-I called after dance practice to tell you that we were going to get home late. You didn't pick up so I left a message."

"Are you fucking _stupid?"_ he spat darkly. "Obviously, I must've been busy if I wasn't there to answer the phone. So here's a suggestion: why don't you call the landline so that I know what's going on?"

Fearing for my daughter's safety, I guided her behind me as Troy marched closer and closer towards us. I watched in shock once he pried the shopping bag from my grip and hurled it to the floor. Leah didn't dare complain.

Suddenly, his palms wrapped around my arms and he pulled me right against him.

"Do you take me for a fool, Gabi?" he asked menacingly.

In an attempt to make eye contact with me, he forced me to look into his eyes by guiding my face towards him.

"No, Troy. I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again," I replied, close to tears.

He seemed to squeeze them out of my once his grip around my arms tightened.

"You're damn right it won't. If it does happen again, can you guess what's going to happen? Tell me, baby."

"I don't know," I whimpered, afraid to say it aloud.

He wiped my tears for his own amusement, patronizing me.

"Oh, you don't know? Well, let me tell you, Sweetheart. By the time I'm finished with you, you won't be able to get up. I am going to make sure that you don't make the same mistake ever again. Understand?"

"Yes, I-I understand, Troy... Please let go; you're hurting me."

Without a word my husband let his grip constrict even tighter until I thought that he would end up snapping my body in half. At the same time his lips met mine in the softest kiss imaginable. Now he was playing with my emotions.

"Damn, you're beautiful when you're scared," he chuckled.

As he finally released me I'd sought to spend another night sleeping on the couch. But Troy soon made it clear that as the man of the house, we were expected to abide by his rules no matter what. We decided not to find out the punishment for ourselves.

"Get upstairs and go to bed now. Both of you. I don't want any more nonsense for the rest of the night... And Angel?"

The way his lips curled into a sweet grin at my daughter made my stomach turn.

"Yes, Daddy?"

_"Get this damn trash off the floor!"_ he barked, causing us to cower on the floor in fright.

He only laughed as we scrambled to collect the contents of the bag before rushing upstairs. At the top of the stairs, Leah became so distraught that she collapsed in tears.

"Don't break down yet, honey. Let's get you to your room before he catches us," I whispered while struggling to help her up.

Once I helped her into the bedroom, I did as much as I could to comfort her. It was easier said than done.

"I'm scared, Mama. What if this gets worse?" she asked me as if I had all of the answers.

For the first time in my life, I was not sure what was going to happen. Troy was quickly falling into an addiction that threatened to tear our family apart, and the worst part in all of this was that he would never know the amount of pain he was causing us.

"I really don't know what to tell you, Sweetie. Just stay out of his way and do whatever he says. Please listen to him. I don't want to see you get hurt..."

"I don't want to see you get hurt either, Mama. But it's going to get worse and he won't stop no matter how much we beg," she sobbed.

As reluctant as I was to accept that this was going to be our life from now on, I hoped that my husband would realize the danger in which he was putting us, and most importantly, himself.

**To be honest I wasn't sure how to end this chapter so it kinda sucked. Anyway I know the twist was very unexpected but I have much bigger plans for the storyline. So hang in there and I'll update as soon as I can. Thanks for reading and review! :) **


	7. From Now On

**I received a lot of different responses for my last chapter, mostly expressing anger about Troy's newfound addiction. It's great that many of you feel very passionate about this issue. It's exactly the point I want to get across about the dangers of drug addiction. Anyway this Troy will be a completely different person than the Troy I began this story with, so brace yourselves. Thanks for the feedback! Enjoy! :D **

**Chapter 7: From Now On**

**Gabriella**

By the next morning, I realized that seeing my husband under the influence one night and normal the next day was becoming a recurring motif in my current life. The scars from the night before—both the emotional and the physical—remained unforgotten in more ways than one.

When a nightmare shook me out of my slumber, I was shocked to discover that bruises had formed on both of my upper arms. My husband remained fast asleep, unaware of the damage he'd caused. I still didn't have the heart to tell him, and I slipped on a long-sleeved top so that he wouldn't find out.

I knew how upset Leah remained after he carelessly knocked her costume to the floor. Certainly, a day off from school was just what she needed to recover.

Once I stirred, I decided that it was the perfect time to tell him, and I could not hesitate any longer. But when I ventured downstairs to find my husband, I was shocked to see him tossing back what looked like two pills into his throat. Although I hoped that it wasn't a drug, it probably was.

He then leaned against the counter with a sigh and murmured to himself, "I'm sorry Gabriella. I'm sorry Leah."

Afraid to get caught, I turned back to return up the stairwell when my footsteps caught his earshot.

"Gabi, is that you?" he called.

If I told him what I saw, he would certainly be furious. Putting on a cheerful façade, I revealed myself to him from my hiding place.

"Good morning, Troy."

As he leaned in to kiss me, I refrained from cringing.

"How did you sleep?"

"I couldn't," I replied timidly.

He spun around, sending me a skeptical gaze. I could see that the whites of his eyes were already gaining a red tint. I had to tell him quickly.

"Why?"

"Because y-you're dangerous when you're under the influence," I stammered.

Troy was quickly running out of patience, and I then realized that I was watching the transformation from man to monster.

"Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not. It's not you; it's what you're doing that's scaring me."

_"Then tell me!"_ he bellowed, slamming his palms against the counter.

"You're taking drugs! I just saw you swallow some pills five minutes ago. This is bad, Troy. Not only are you putting me and Leah in danger, but you're putting yourself in danger. You promised that you wouldn't hurt us!"

By that time my words were useless and only angered him more.

The cold laugh that emerged from his lips caused my stomach to turn. His eyes were black with a sick thirst for vengeance.

"Oh? So you're standing up to me now. I don't know how to tell you this, Sweetie, but there's only one boss around here and that's me... You better start running," he said darkly.

Troy did not move immediately, but began cracking his knuckles in preparation. Once he started his approach, I raced up the stairs and frantically searched for a hiding place. The slow chase was like a scene out of a horror movie, as my husband's menacing footsteps plodded behind me. He wanted to play Hide and Seek for his own twisted amusement, and was eager to get his hands on me if I were to be found.

There was no way that I would hide in the most obvious of places—the den and our bedroom, so I ran towards the end of the hall and locked myself into my daughter's room. She quickly stirred and gazed at me in concern.

"Mama, what—?"

"Shh! Come on, let's get to the attic," I told her while she rushed to help me.

Meanwhile the sound of doors being kicked open echoed down the hallway. Once we managed to pull the ladder down, I guided her into the dusty compartment before climbing up behind her. We froze momentarily as the doorknob began to twist.

"I know you're in there, Gabi! Open this damn door!" he yelled from the other side.

"Leah, help me out. I need you to pull the ladder."

"I can't! It's stuck!" she whispered.

Our panic grew at the sound of his fist pounding against the door. Following that was the solid thud of his shoe making a connection.

_"Gabriella!"_

The more the thick sheet of wood began to splinter, the more I was compelled to protect my daughter and myself. With one last grunt of effort I managed to haul the attic door shut just as Troy kicked his way into the bedroom.

I held Leah close to me and covered her mouth with my palm to keep her frightened cries silenced. For the next few minutes we could only listen to his footfalls pounding about the room in search of me. Here and there were occasional shuffles as he looked through her closet and bathroom. I prayed that he forgot about the attic in his rage, and he did.

Letting out a huff of frustration, Troy turned and left the room. We knew that it was safe to come out once I glanced through the small window beside me and spotted him driving away.

"He's gone. It's over, baby," I said, sighing in relief.

Her eyes were wide with fear once she lifted her head from my lap.

"I don't want to be here. Please take me to dance class, Mama."

"How are we going to get there? It's too far of a walk and your father took the only car that's working."

"We can call a taxi cab. I know it'll be expensive but I don't feel safe. _Please,_ Mommy," my daughter pleaded tearfully.

Although Leah thought that it was best to go elsewhere while Troy was gone, I feared that we would return home to an even angrier man. After all, we couldn't stay in the dance studio forever.

"Oh, I don't know, Leah. I don't want to make him angrier than he already is," I replied doubtfully.

"I'll tell him that it was my idea. I don't care if he hits me, just as long as he doesn't hurt you."

"No, don't do that... I'll tell him myself. I don't want you to get hurt. Let's get dressed, but hurry."

Hastily, we emerged from the attic and rushed to pack Leah's gym bag. At the same time I called the taxi company and gave them directions to my neighborhood. Ten minutes had soon passed without any sign of my husband, and I was relieved to see a cab waiting outside the house.

"That's the cab driver, honey. Are you ready?" I asked her.

"Yeah."

Within seconds we were through the door, and that was when I decided that it would be appropriate to call my husband to let him know where we were going. As we ducked into the car, I listened to the buzz of the line until he picked up.

"Have you come out from your hiding place yet?" he chuckled, which sent up my spine.

"Yes, actually. Leah wanted to go to the studio since she's not in school today, so we're heading there now."

"Who the hell do you think you are? You two belong to _me,_ and when I say that it's okay to leave the house, then you can leave. You don't make the rules around here!"

"But you know that your daughter loves to dance. You can't deprive her of doing something that she loves," I argued gently.

"I don't care! Keep pushing me, Gabi. You'll get the punishment you deserve the moment you set foot in that house, and that's a promise."

"I'm sorry, Troy."

"Saying sorry isn't going to stop me from beating the shit out of you when you get home. Don't make me wait," he replied viciously before I heard him slam the phone down.

Silently, Leah cast me an apologetic gaze as I sank into the seat.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The dance studio on Amarillo. Thank you."

During the long drive, all I could think about were the harsh threats I received from my husband. If he was only trying to scare me, then it was working.

But I really hoped that I would not end up collapsing onto my bed in a battered heap.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

After me and my mother's daring escape from the attic, I knew that my father wouldn't take kindly to returning to an empty house. I felt mostly responsible for getting my mother in trouble, and hoped that she was not angry with me.

My dance instructor Angie was surprised to find us standing outside of her doors.

"Gabriella! Leah! What a surprise! Come on in," she said.

"We weren't sure if you were busy or not, but Leah didn't go to school today and she was stuck at home with nothing to do."

"Oh, I'm hardly busy around this time. The other instructors are busy with the homeschooled students, but I'm free."

"Well, thank you so much for taking us today," my mother said gratefully.

As we stepped into Angie's personal studio, I became eager to show off my new dress to her. I hoped that _she_ would at least care.

"Mrs. Meyer, look what my mom got for me last night. Isn't it pretty?" I asked while holding the costume against myself.

"My goodness, it's gorgeous! I bet someone must've spent a pretty penny."

"Definitely," my mother chuckled.

"Go put it on. I would love to see how it looks when you dance."

I disappeared to the bathroom still burdened by the inevitable fate my mother would face later on. She didn't deserve to be punished for trying to protect me. If anything, I should be the one to face my father's wrath.

As my mother stepped into the dressing room to help me, she cupped my face and studied my worried expression.

"You okay, _Nena?"_

"Not really," I murmured.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel so guilty for getting you into this. I don't want him to hurt you, and if I wasn't such a coward..."

"Oh, no, baby. Don't feel guilty for wanting to do something that you love. He should feel guilty for breaking his promise to us in the first place. And you're not a coward—you're far from it. When you offered to take the fall for me, that was the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do. I am _so_ proud of you," my mother praised gently.

I relaxed in her warm embrace and rest my head against her shoulder.

"I wish we could stay here forever."

"Me too, Leah. Me too," she sighed.

My instructor gasped in delight once we emerged from the dressing room.

"Beautiful, just beautiful! You are going to look great onstage."

After taking some time to stretch, Angie asked me to perform the entire dance to make sure that I'd memorized it. But my mind was elsewhere. I struggled to stay in character, and she was quick to take notice.

"You're forgetting to extend on your Grand Jeté. At your highest point your eyes should be toward the ceiling. Let's try it again, Leah," Angie said.

I hoped that she would not identify my distraction as a personal issue and ask me about current events. Determined to keep her curiosity from running wild, I performed the Grand Jeté with as much effort as I could muster.

"Much better! Keep it up."

Besides my occasional mistakes, I just couldn't seem to immerse myself in the emotional aspect of the choreography throughout the day. Angie became extremely concerned because just yesterday, I was doing relatively well.

"Is something wrong, Sweetheart?"

Looking towards my mother for an answer, the only response I received was a fleeting shrug.

"No, I'm okay. I-I'm just a little tired, that's all," I replied.

"Tired? Why, your last day of school is in a few days. You should be the most energetic one out of the rest of us."

I could only smile nervously as Angie planted a kiss at the top of my head.

"It's okay; I'm not mad. Would you like to take a quick break?" she asked gently.

"Yes."

While my mother remained in the studio with my instructor, I left the room in search of a water fountain. The closest station was located right near the entrance of the lobby. Since I had been so on edge for most of the day, I figured that a cool, refreshing drink would help me relax.

I held my hair back from the steady stream of water and leaned forward to take a sip. The front lobby was usually quiet because of its lack of traffic, but that day I noticed that it seemed quieter than usual. At the same time a glare from outside caught my eye, and when I stood upright I soon realized that it was my father's car. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found. It was not a good sign.

Suddenly I found myself unable to scream as a large palm roughly clamped over my mouth while another gripped the back of my neck.

"Looking for me, Angel?" the menacing voice said.

Before I knew it my father had spun me around to face his bloodshot eyes.

"Daddy! Wh-what are you doing here?"

"What, did you think that I wouldn't follow you? Well, have I got some news for you, baby. Just because you're around all your little dancing buddies doesn't mean that I won't refrain from teaching you a lesson."

For a moment he stepped backwards and observed me in my costume.

It was then that I realized that my father had the potential to take advantage of me if he wanted to. In his current state, he could do anything he wanted to me. And all that time he kept telling me to stay away from men who could hurt me.

"What the hell is this—a nightgown? Your teacher is going to put you onstage in that?" he retorted cynically.

I squirmed in discomfort as my father trapped me between his arms, and stroked the material of the dress with his fingers.

"If any man deserves to see you wearing these tiny outfits, it should be me and me alone," he murmured.

As much as I tried to escape, my feet seemed to be glued to the floor.

"Damn... Look at what a gorgeous little girl I created. You're just like your mother. It's too bad I'm going to have to punish both of you for running."

Without warning my father snaked his palm under my dress and pinched the flesh beneath my ribcage. The pain was unbearable, so much so that I could not even utter a scream, but a silent cry.

"Daddy, please stop. You're hurting me," I whimpered.

But that only made him pinch me harder.

"That's the point," he growled.

Just then the voice of my instructor came echoing down the hall, which caused a strange phenomenon to occur. My father's eyes grew wide with fear and he immediately released me. I had discovered his first weakness: the fear of getting caught.

"Leah, honey? Are you okay out...? Oh! Hello, Troy. What brings you here today?"

Behind Angie, my mother's face paled at his unexpected arrival.

"Well, I came to get Gabi and Leah because I just found out that my parents are coming to stay for the week. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything but we have to get the house in order before they arrive," he explained coolly.

"No, not at all. I understand how nerve wracking it is when your parents suddenly decide to show up. The in-laws are even worse," Angie laughed, oblivious to the fact that we were being practically kidnapped.

"Well, off you go, then. I don't want you to keep you waiting."

While my mother left to collect my things from the studio, Angie's eyebrows furrowed together in concern once she noticed the condition of my father. She stepped closer and gazed directly into his eyes.

"My goodness, Troy! Your eyes are blood red! Are you okay?"

"It's my allergies. I ran out of medicine this morning and I have to wait until tomorrow to get it. This dust, you know, irritates my eyes," he replied, and rubbed his eyes for effect.

"I do hope you feel better soon. I had that same problem when I first moved here and you wouldn't believe how swollen my eyes would get by the end of the day."

The fear was evident in my mother's eyes once she returned with my bag.

"Here's your stuff, honey. Angie, we're so sorry to leave on such short notice but we'll be back if we're not... busy with Troy's parents," she recited nervously.

"Go ahead and have fun. This should give Leah plenty of time to work out the kinks in her routine. I'll see you guys next week," Angie said before sending us off with a hug.

I nearly buckled in pain as she circled her arms around my waist. She cupped my face between her palms and cooed sympathetically.

"Ohh, you really are tired. Try to get some rest tonight, okay?"

"Okay, Mrs. Meyer... Bye."

The urge to burst into tears was difficult to ignore. While my father hastily guided us through the door, I turned my back to her so that she would not see them fall. After waiting for Angie to wander out of the lobby, he pushed us across the parking lot towards the car.

"Finally. I thought the bitch would never shut up," he scoffed.

"Troy—"

"Shut up, Gabriella! If I were you I'd start crying like this one over here. Not one word until we get home!"

In the backseat where my mother and I reluctantly awaited our approaching fate, I discreetly lifted my dress to show her the nasty bruise he left on my side. Her worst fears had come true.

She let her head fall against the seat in despair knowing that she wasn't going to be alone. Without a word my mother held me close to her, dreading the moment I would be separated from her.

**~WYLS~**

"Get in the house, now! And don't even think about hiding from me."

The barking demand sent us scrambling out of the garage, where my mother and I obediently waited in the family room.

My father calmly followed while pulling something out of his pocket: a single white pill. No longer caring that we were watching, he swallowed the drug in one swift gulp and gestured towards my mother. I had never seen her so scared before.

"Come here, Gabi," he said.

Putting on a brave face, she gave me a short kiss and slowly approached him.

"Wait... Before you do anything, please send Leah to her room. I don't want her to see this," she pleaded gently.

A frightened gasp emerged as my father wrapped his palm around her neck.

"What the fuck do you take me as?" he growled.

He then released her with a powerful shove, sending her to the floor with a crashing thud. She hardly got the chance to recover before he knelt beside her and raised his fist. I placed my hands over my eyes, shielding them from the harsh blow he delivered to her face.

"If I send Leah to her room, how is she going to learn not to make the same stupid mistakes as you? Since you don't seem to understand what I'm trying to get across, let me show you."

The landing punches never seemed to cease. Even as my mother cowered on the floor covering her head, my father was relentless in his actions. Soon the unreal sight became almost mesmerizing, and I could not tear my eyes away from the brutal scene.

"I'm sorry, Troy! Please stop! Please!" she begged for mercy.

But her desperate cries fell on deaf ears. As her screams grew increasingly louder, my father hauled her up from the floor and slammed her head against the wall to silence her. Surely, he did not want the neighbors to find out.

The large gash that had formed across her forehead began to spill blood down her face like a waterfall. She was hardly recognizable. Her right eye was swollen shut, her body was covered in cuts and bruises, and she was bleeding from the head. I refused to believe that what I was seeing was real.

The man who once promised us a lifetime of love and happiness was beating my mother for no reason at all. And the worst part was that he was actively taking drugs after he repeatedly pleaded with me not to experiment with them. Now that he hypocritically went against everything he believed in, I didn't know what his beliefs were anymore.

Within ten minutes the assault was over, and my father simply walked into the kitchen to retrieve something. As my mother remained on the floor battered, he grabbed a dish towel and tossed it at her body.

"Clean yourself up. You look like shit," he murmured, then stared directly into my eyes.

That was when he pointed back at her to make his warning clear.

"What are you crying for? Huh? Are you scared? Well, if you don't want to end up like her I suggest you start doing whatever I tell you to do... And I do mean whatever. You'll find out soon."

My stomach churned when he sent me a dirty wink. I cringed inwardly as he brushed his finger beneath my chin, leaving a trace of my mother's blood there.

Before heading into the living room my father grabbed a bottle of booze from the refrigerator and sat in front of the television. Who was this man?

"Gabi, get off the floor and go to bed. Don't make me say it again," he ordered with a loud yawn.

Fearing that he would return for a second round, I quickly helped her from the ground and up the stairwell. She was slightly disoriented, so I guided her into the bathroom to clean her wounds. It was strange to me because usually, I was the one who needed to be taken care of.

"Are you okay, Mama?" I asked gently.

My mother only glanced away and shook her head.

"No," she exhaled tearfully. "I've lost my husband."

I didn't know what to say as she broke into anguished sobs. Instead I comforted her the way she would comfort me, and wrapped my arms around her.

"We have to stick together if we want to survive. Daddy is an addict now and who knows if we'll ever get him back? That's why we have to rely on each other from now on," I said.

"Yes, we do. I'm just glad that he didn't go after you. If he hurts you anymore than he has already, then I don't know what I'll do."

As much as she would hate for me to say it, I wished that he did come after me. My mother was the last person who deserved to be treated that way.

"Then we'll both take it like champions and show him that he can't keep us down that easily. That's what we'll do."

Although I never believed in giving up a fight, my mother and I would have to until we could figure out his other weaknesses. When the time was right we would strike without warning. He wasn't the only one with power.

I just had to accept that this would be my life from now on.

**What did you think of this one? Too harsh? Not accurate enough? Let me know what you think and I'll be back with another. Please review my loves! :)**


	8. Power

**I'm not going to lie, it has taken me**** quite**** a while to come up with this chapter, but here it is. My goal was to update before I go St. Thomas on Friday because I'm leaving to go to college there. The problem is I don't own a laptop and at my house there we don't have high-speed internet. It's going to be a while until my sister and I receive our own laptops. So I'll update whenever I get access to a fast computer, which I _really_ hope will be soon. Please enjoy! **

**Chapter 8: Power**

**June**

**Gabriella**

Never in my life had I once thought that my marriage would amount to this.

I never even suspected that my husband would become an addict who found a cheap thrill in hurting me. An abusive relationship was far from what I had in mind when I pictured spending the rest of my life with Troy. That man was not the person I married fourteen years ago. I simply refused to believe it.

From the day Troy established his power over us, his daily drug use fell into somewhat of a routine. He often used me to his full advantage.

I was now expected to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to prepare his breakfast. To keep the edge off, my husband would immediately take the smallest dose from his stash while ordering me to arrange his suit for work. The pills did not work immediately, but he'd still exhibit whatever remaining behavior due to his heavy use from the night before.

That would be just the start of his cruel games.

He'd tell me exactly what he wanted to wear that day, then slap me out of spite before yelling that it was not what he told me to put together for him. I knew that retaliating would only earn me another slap, so I had no choice but to robotically take the blame for my "mistake."

Leah also played a part in Troy's morning preparation, as it was her job to tie his shoes before he left the house. He loved to stand above her and bark insults down at her as she knelt at his feet. I couldn't imagine how damaging it was to her self-esteem to hear her father sneer remarks while she waited on him like a slave. Since she was out of school for the summer he felt that it was necessary for her to make just as much of an effort in order to keep his needs satisfied.

Before he left the house, Troy would tell us what tasks he wanted to have completed by the time he returned home. Then for good measure he'd grab my face and place a rough his on my lips. During the ten-hour gap in which he was gone, he knew that we had all the time in the world to escape him, but we didn't. We couldn't.

Escaping was one of the most complicated and dangerous choices that we could make. The fear of getting caught and punished severely haunted our thoughts, and it was the control he had over us that made us reluctant to do anything. In abusive relationships the victims were always advised to get out as soon as possible, but it's never that easy.

Watching him being carted away by the police would break my heart. I still loved him too much to leave the life we made together. And that was my greatest weakness. The Troy I loved was hidden somewhere deep inside of that monster that now lurked around our home.

As for my family I did not want to get them involved in a situation that was already bad. Troy made sure of it. By checking the call history on my phone every evening, he was able to find out if I was calling someone else besides him. He'd already confiscated Leah's phone after he caught her texting one of her cousins.

The worst days were when I had to leave the house to run errands, especially shopping. This meant that I would have to endure the high temperatures by wearing long-sleeved tops and pants that covered my legs completely. To conceal the cuts and bruises on my face, I'd cake on as much makeup as I could onto my face and wear oversized sunglasses to hide my blackened eyes.

As I stepped into the public eye, my insecurities would quickly arise. It seemed like everyone around me was staring, as if they somehow knew my ugly secret.

My only relief so far was that my husband wasn't looking towards me for sex. I could not imagine the kind of humiliating things he would make me do.

I thought that I had dodged a bullet, until one night.

Troy, extremely drunk after consuming more than a few bottles of alcohol, took my hand and silently led me upstairs. I didn't dare ask him where he was taking me, knowing that he was even more dangerous when he was drunk. Once we were in the bedroom, my heart sank as he locked the door behind himself.

"I couldn't help but notice how sexy you looked when you were taking my laundry out of the dryer earlier. One look at that plump ass and I was hooked. Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you now?"

Although I was sure that the question was rhetorical I foolishly shook my head and said, "N-no."

"I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you cry and fuck you even harder when you do. Take your clothes off."

Frozen in place, I watched my husband in stunned silence as he began to strip his clothing off.

"NOW!" he barked.

I reluctantly complied with his demands and hastily removed my own clothing. What soon followed left me traumatized in more ways than one. He made me do things I never thought I'd be forced to do. The pain was horrendous but he could care less that I was crying for him to stop. Once it was all over I remained worn and numb, unable to fathom the reality that my husband had taken advantage of me.

Before passing out on top of me, Troy took one last swig of his booze and let me taste the intoxicated flavor of his tongue. Lovemaking would never be the same for me again.

By the next morning I was a completely different person. That was when I realized that I would probably never get out. I didn't believe in happiness anymore. True love, in my eyes, was something to be speculated. As a teenager I felt that Troy was perfect; just the way I had envisioned my future husband. The past few weeks showed me that there was no such thing as perfection.

Besides my botched outlook on the future of my marriage, my emotions became subdued as well. It was just what he wanted me to become—a lifeless robot that complied with his every whim without protest. I was broken and he knew it.

Troy soon stirred only to remember that I was lying right beneath him. He gave my curls a harsh pull, yet I hardly flinched.

"Did you have fun last night, baby?"

"...Yes, Troy," I replied automatically, cringing at my sore throat.

My husband only chuckled at the hoarse crack in my voice.

"Aww, do you have a sore throat? Well, get used to it! You're going to be on your knees a lot more from now on. Now, get up and make me breakfast," he demanded.

As I slipped out of bed to put some clothes on, I was not surprised to see that a set of fresh bruises had taken their place on my body.

Weekends with Troy were long and difficult since he didn't have to work on Saturdays and Sundays. That meant double the labor and double the abuse for my daughter and I. With the haunting memories of the night before still fresh in my mind, I sought to distract myself by working nonstop that day.

"Is there anything in particular that you want me to make?" I asked meekly.

"I don't give a fuck what you make! Just get me something to eat before I knock you out!"

He was playing the guessing game again.

Troy was going to lower my guard by giving me the consent to cook anything he wanted for breakfast, then punish me later for giving him the wrong meal. I hated that game.

Hoping to avoid a beating, I hastily prepared his usual breakfast: pancakes with a side of eggs and bacon. He also liked to have a steaming mug of coffee. Even that couldn't calm his mean hangover.

Meanwhile, Troy occupied his usual place on the couch, lying sprawled out as he relaxed in front of the television. Yet again he tossed a few pills back to satisfy his need for an intense high.

"Where the hell is my breakfast?! I'm starving!" he soon yelled.

I squinted menacingly at his back, wishing for just a split-second that he would choke on that mouthful of drugs.

Wait a minute… What was I thinking?

_No, Gabi! This man is your husband; the man you love. No matter how badly he treats you don't _ever_ wish death on him,_ my thoughts coached firmly.

"It's almost done, Troy," I replied instead.

The pancakes needed just a few minutes more on the fire, but my husband wasn't willing to compromise.

"Bring it now! Don't make me come over there!"

I had no choice. Hoping for the best, I flipped the pancakes over so that the palest sides remained unseen. Troy was lost in his sports, and pushed me aside when I stepped in front of the television to place his food on the dinner tray.

"Good girl. Now get me my coffee," he instructed haughtily.

"Yes, Troy."

Not a moment too soon I returned balancing the steaming cup in my hands, just as Troy took a bite out of the pancakes. I felt sick once he spit them out in disgust.

"Ugh! What are you trying to do—poison me?! These things are raw! Damn it, can't you do anything right?"

At that moment, I felt that it was appropriate to explain why the pancakes were not cooked properly.

"You didn't give me enough time. I-I was letting them cook but you rushed me to take them off the fire," I rambled.

Suddenly, Troy shot up and slapped me across the face, knocking the food to the ground at the same time.

_"I_ rushed you? I sent you down here ten minutes ago! It doesn't take that fucking long to make a few pancakes!"

"I'm sorry! I had to make the eggs and bacon first because—"

"Shut the hell up, Gabriella! That's no excuse to give me shitty pancakes!" he bellowed.

Before I could generate another excuse to save myself, Troy picked up the mug and attempted to splash the scalding liquid in my eyes. Although he missed my face I received a chest-full of hot coffee, which caused me just as much agony. I cried out in pain as my flesh began to burn.

"See? Look at what you made me do, Gabi. If you weren't so stupid I wouldn't have to punish you like this. Get upstairs and clean yourself up. That's the last time I let you ruin my morning," he said condescendingly.

I remained stunned, hardly able to move as my husband roughly guided me towards the stairwell. That was when he called Leah to clean the mess in the living room, and to prepare another breakfast for him.

Desperate for relief, I rushed into the bathroom upstairs, shed my clothing off and stood beneath the showerhead. The severity of the burn left me trembling, and it was not long before my chest and arms grew red. Luckily it was only a first-degree burn and nothing worse. I sighed once the cool water showered my body.

It had been a while since I had some time to myself, so I savored the moment because I was not sure if I would ever have the chance to be left alone again. I wanted to kill whoever was responsible for ruining my life.

My daughter and I needed to get out and fast. Being trapped was slowly killing us inside and if we didn't escape soon, I feared that Troy would kill us before the emotional damage did.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

I dreaded being around my father lately. Not only because of his drug and alcohol addiction; not just because of the abuse, but because of the perverted interest he was beginning to take in me. The way he looked at me made me sick to my stomach.

It wasn't normal or right, for that matter. A father wasn't supposed to have the same feelings for his daughter as he had for his wife.

Although he had not attempted anything more other than the raunchy comments, I sensed that he would make a physical advance sooner or later. My mother had no idea, and I intended on keeping it that way. It would crush her to realize that my father could have his way with me if he wanted to.

"Leah, get over here and clean this garbage! And when you're done make me some more food," he called from the living room.

Once I spotted my mother hurrying up the stairs, I groaned to myself and gathered some cleaning supplies. As I stepped into the living room, my father pointed at the mess on the floor in silence.

When he noticed that was bringing the mop, he said, "I don't think so, Missy. You put that mop away and get the scrub brush. I'm not going to have you taking shortcuts around here."

Like he cared whether or not I was taking "shortcuts."

That sick man wanted me on the floor so that he could observe me. I only knew that because I had the shivers whenever I sensed that someone was watching me. What made the task worse for me was that I happened to be wearing a skirt on that day.

Reluctantly, I knelt in front of my father to tend to the spilled food and coffee. I could feel him smirking at my back. And so the shivers began. Besides the background noise of the television, there was no other sound except for my heavy scrubbing. Eventually I also realized that his shallow breaths were slowly increasing.

"That's it, baby girl. Keep going," he murmured.

The disgusting remarks never seemed to cease until the floor was spotless, and I shuffled uncomfortably back into the kitchen. In that instant all I could think about was leaving the room, so I concentrated on making my father a good breakfast so that he would just leave me alone.

Just like my mother had done before, I reheated the three pans on the stovetop and used them to cook the bacon, eggs and pancakes. I dipped a cup into the pancake batter to pour it onto the skillet, but froze in place as a large, masculine hand suddenly covered mine.

Not only was my father standing behind me, but he was right against me. His voice emerged husky once he pressed his lips against my ear.

"If you want to make perfectly round pancakes, the secret is to hold the batter high over the skillet and pour slowly. Like this..."

I felt as though I was a puppet being manipulated by strings while he guided my hand over the pan. Since his other hand remained free, my father decided to rest it right against my hip. Although he did not "seem" to notice, I was shaking terribly, and my heart raced frantically. I was trapped and he knew what he was doing.

As he helped me pour a second cup of batter, he reassured me that there was nothing to be afraid of.

"What's wrong, baby? Relax. You're all tensed up," he said gently.

It was easier said than done. How was I supposed to relax when my father was on the verge of groping me? I nearly launched towards the ceiling as the same hand on my hip slithered down my thigh.

"Daddy, please... stop," I pleaded gently, failing to hold back the tears I'd been fighting for the past few minutes.

Not going any further, he burrowed his nose through my hair before kissing my cheek.

"Why are you scared, Beautiful? I'm not going to hurt you. You're doing a great job."

Hoping to deter his wayward thoughts, I cried even more until he grew impatient and released me.

"Damn, you're difficult. Just give me my food, you little brat," he sneered.

Unable to look my father in the eyes, I hastily assembled the food on a plate and handed it to him. Before leaving, he carelessly shoved me against the wall. I was just relieved that he had fallen for my ploy.

From that day I decided that I would use whatever tactic imaginable to throw him off balance. I would endure any kind of physical or emotional abuse if it meant avoiding sexual abuse at all costs. My father needed to know that I was not going to give him the satisfaction of watching me surrender to him.

My mother and I were the real winners. Proving our tactical strengths was just the tip of the iceberg.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

Lately, it seemed as though my wife was doing everything possible to piss me off. Gabriella did nothing but screw up and then had the nerve to tell me that I was wrong; that I was the one making the mistakes.

That woman was walking on eggshells. One more wrong step and she would certainly get what she deserved. I still loved her but she drove me crazy. These days, all Gabriella was good for was sex and being my personal maid.

At the same time, my daughter was starting to look good to me. Really good.

It was not until a week ago that I realized what an attractive young girl Leah was. Equipped with a pair of stunning blue eyes, her innocent temperament and curves like her mother's, I slowly found myself becoming almost stimulated by her presence. I did not know why I suddenly gained such new and strange emotions, but there was something about Leah that grasped my attention.

My daughter was naïve, gorgeous; inexperienced. She was... fresh.

So far I had not been able to make the move I wanted to make, yet I was never on that much of a high that I would try anything. Tossing her suggestive remarks was the only way for me to keep the naughty thoughts at bay. But in truth, I wanted Leah.

Forcing my wife to have sex with me had already caused me enough guilt while I was under the influence. That only caused me to take even more drugs than I usually took. As a result, I ran out of Mark's entire stash of pills and became desperate for more. If I wanted to make a move on Leah without hesitation, that meant that I would have to get even stronger drugs. The desire for an intense high was so powerful that it gripped me like a serpent, refusing to let go.

By that time I knew that Mark was in possession of almost every drug imaginable, so I needed to get to his house and fast. Unwilling to drive there on my own, I dragged my wife out of the shower and told her to get dressed.

"Where are we going?" she asked stupidly.

"Mind your damn business! Just get your clothes on and find the car keys."

As she stepped past me in the doorway, I raised my palm just to watch her flinch. I loved torturing her.

"Wherever_ I_ tell you to go, that's where you'll drive. Got it?" I warned.

Before heading downstairs, Gabriella nodded obediently.

"Yes, Troy."

"Good. Now go start the car and adjust my seat."

In the meantime I sat on the couch and beckoned Leah towards me.

"Come here, baby. And bring my shoes."

She knew the drill. Without protest my daughter grabbed a pair of shoes from the coat closet and hesitantly made her way over. I loved watching her put on my shoes. It made me feel like a king.

After pushing both of my feet into each shoe, she leaned closer to grasp the laces. Leah made every attempt to avoid eye contact as she began to tie the shoes, but that was about to change. Out of curiosity I only wanted to see if she was capable of keeping calm under pressure.

"Look at me, Leah," I ordered.

Trying to seem as occupied as possible, she kept her gaze focused on the floor. Having no tolerance for her disobedience, I grabbed my daughter by the chin and forced her to look into my eyes.

"Look at me! Don't stop tying, just look at me."

As a warning I raised my fist above her head, which caused her to comply immediately.

Leah's blue eyes remained wide with fear, quivering with the desire to shift in another direction. My shoes were perfectly tied within seconds, yet I wasn't done with her. I held my gaze against hers for what seemed like hours. She didn't dare look away, but it was clear that she wanted to more than anything. After a few minutes I noticed that tiny beads of sweat were beginning to form along her forehead, and she shuddered as if she were cold. She froze as if she were in the path of a speeding car.

That was when I realized what an overwhelming affect I had on my daughter. In my presence she was too petrified to function, and became virtually paralyzed. I could do anything I wanted to her and get away with it. This was power.

"Kiss me, Angel," I found myself whispering.

That was enough to snap her out of her trance. Leah gently shook her head before attempting to pull away. But I only planned to bring her closer to me every time she protested. She whimpered helplessly as I grabbed her by the upper arms.

"No..."

Hoping to distract me, Leah began to cry and whine that I was hurting her. I wasn't going to fall for that stupid tactic like I did before.

"I said to kiss me!" I bellowed.

"No, please!"

The plea only earned her a hard slap to the face. Before she could recover, I clutched her tighter and shook her violently.

_"Mommy! Help me!"_ she suddenly screeched.

Hoping to silence my daughter, I hit her even more while she fought to get out of my grip. Gabriella could not find out what I planned to do with Leah.

"Kiss me now, you little bitch!"

Without warning, Leah whipped around and threw up on the floor in front of me. Immediately, I let go of her in disgust and surged to my feet.

At that moment, Gabriella rushed inside to see what the commotion was about. Once she found Leah on her hands and knees, she quickly knelt beside her and rubbed her back.

"Oh, Leah! What happened, honey?"

"The brat nearly puked on my shoe, that's what happened!" I replied.

Looking for sympathy, the girl leaned against her chest and sobbed.

"I don't feel good. My neck hurts really bad and I'm nauseous. I want to go to bed, Mama."

Gabriella then glanced up at me with pleading eyes.

"Please, Troy. Just for today," she implored gently.

Of course, she was not going to get away that easily.

"Okay..." I reluctantly surrendered.

"Oh, thank you so—"

_"After_ she cleans this mess up. Let's go, Gabi."

Knowing that she couldn't protest without receiving a hit, Gabriella kissed Leah on the forehead and rose to her feet.

"You heard your father. Get the mop, Sweetie. We'll be back soon, okay?" she replied mechanically.

Wiping away one last tear, Leah nodded and croaked, "Okay."

As my wife turned to head back to the garage, I sent her a wink before following Gabriella out the door.

Leah might have won twice that day, but she knew that it was a matter of time before she would learn the hard way. She could cry all she wanted and hide behind her mother. But she wasn't as untouchable as she thought. I was going to prove just that to her.

That was a promise.

**I'm sensing that this chapter may have been a little too intense for some but that was the illusion I was trying to get across. Like I mentioned before I don't know when will be next time I'll have access to a high-speed computer because I don't have a laptop, so please keep that in mind. Tell me what you think and I'll get back to you whenever I can. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Possibilities

**Hey guys, I know I said that I would not be posting for a while, but I don't know what happened after that. The ideas just started flowing and I've been working like mad for the past two days. I noticed that a lot of you were upset at Gabriella for not standing up to Troy, and I understand that it can be easy to think that she's weak. Soon enough Troy will put her to the test and she will realize that something has to be done. In the meantime, let's see what happens here. Enjoy! **

**Chapter 9: Possibilities**

**Gabriella**

After pulling me out of the bathroom mid-shower, Troy demanded that I be his chauffeur for the day. He wouldn't tell me where he planned to go, and that worried me immensely. Without so much as a "please" he hurried me through the door, leaving my sick daughter home alone.

On the road he gave me several warnings, including not following him once we'd arrived at his destination. As I ended up in another suburb about two miles away from Las Cruces, I became curious as to who he wanted to visit.

I had never entered that side of the city before, and Troy never mentioned knowing anyone from there. The neighborhood appeared just as welcoming and immaculate as ours, but I knew that looks were deceiving. Sadly, my husband had fallen under that category.

I drove through that suburb for what seemed like hours, until at the very end of the lineup sat a house that stood out above the rest, and not in a good way. The front lawn was abundant with dead brown weeds unlike every other house with a healthy yard. A thin layer of dirt coated the lower half of the house walls as if someone had kicked soil at it. The windows were covered with thick black curtains while an array of locks and bolts kept the front door sealed tightly. From the backyard I heard what sounded like the barks of a vicious attack dog.

But what really aroused my suspicions was that the entire perimeter remained almost hidden behind a towering wooden fence. It was strange because no one else had a fence. Clearly, there was some shady business going around that place that the owner didn't want anyone to know about.

I hoped that it was not the place that Troy wanted me to stop at. But as always, luck never seemed to work in my favor whenever I wanted it to.

"Stop here," he instructed before pulling out his cell phone.

I distracted myself by looking at the house across the street while he began to dial a number.

"Hey, asshole... Yeah, it's me... Tie your mutt up and let me in... Of course I want more. Why else would I be here?"

After the chatter on the opposite line paused again, Troy looked me up and down, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Yeah, she brought me... Oh, you can see her from here? Sexy, isn't she? ...Can you have her? Hell no! This bitch is mine," he chuckled.

The derogatory word left me deeply hurt, yet he could care less how I felt. To him I was just an object.

Not long after my husband hung up, a hooded figure briskly shuffled into the backyard. Because the gate was almost as tall as him, the only clue I received that the man had made it to the front gate was when it seemed to open by itself. Before stepping out of the car, Troy spun around and pointed a menacing finger towards my face.

"If you even think about stepping foot outside this car, you are dead. I don't care if you need to stretch your legs or go to the bathroom. Don't try to look over that fence because I'll be watching you. And if you do, well, I think we both know what's going to happen," he said, then patted me on the cheek to emphasize his warning.

"I won't, Troy. I promise," I replied meekly.

"I'm not done yet. Don't call anyone and don't try to escape, because I will find you and kill you... On second thought, give me your phone and the car keys," he demanded.

Before I could hand the items to him myself, Troy snatched the phone out of my grip and tore the keys from the ignition. I watched as he slipped through the gate, which quickly slammed shut.

Since I did not expect my husband to stay for long, I didn't mind waiting on him for a couple of minutes. But after a few minutes and more, I was starting to grow impatient as well as uncomfortable. Temperatures that day were well above 100 degrees, causing me to practically cook in the sealed car. Getting out for air seemed like an appropriate idea, unless I wanted to return home with a bloody nose.

The second problem I faced was that I wasn't able to open the automatic windows or turn on the air condition because I would have needed the keys to do so. Troy made sure that not a crack was left for me to breathe through. Also, he made sure to finish the only bottle of water during the drive there. It was like he wanted me to suffer.

I did not want to step on his toes, so naturally I stayed put and endured the sweltering heat. The dangers of being left in a hot car became familiar to me through articles I had read about children dying because of their careless parents. It was not clear whether the dehydration or lack of air was going to get me first, but I surely did not want to find out. Sweating was the least of my problems.

Nearly half an hour had passed since Troy had stepped through that gate, and I felt as though I was running out of time. I could hardly breathe, my throat was dry and my burn was beginning to sting as the sun bear down on me. Soon I became convinced that I would suffocate before my husband left that house.

By the time_ fifty_ minutes had passed I realized that I was experiencing symptoms of heat exhaustion. Headaches, dizziness, fatigue, nausea; they all struck me at once. I needed to get to a shaded area and fast. About a few yards down the sidewalk stood a towering tree, abundant with shade. The sight became even more tempting once the nearby sprinklers on the grass began to rotate. At that moment I could care less if Troy was going to punish me for disobeying his rules. I just needed relief before I ended up dying in that car.

With my life now hanging in the balance, I grasped the handle beside myself to pry the door open. However as I kept pulling, it just would not open. It was then that I realized that Troy had locked me in the car by switching on the child safety lock.

Now I was trapped.

Desperate to escape, I started to pound on the windows and scream for help. Catching the attention of a passer-by was not very likely since the entire street was empty. The more I'd used up my energy, the more I was beginning to fade. My blurring vision and rapid heartbeat was the first checkpoint on my steady and torturous journey towards death.

I began to think about Leah and what she would do without me to protect her. I regretted not escaping with her as soon as our lives began to spiral out of control. What scared me the most was thinking that she would end up in a situation similar to mine: dying alone. I hoped that we would at least be together wherever mothers and daughters were reunited after they died.

As the darkness began to close in on me, the last thing I saw was Troy approaching the car while holding a new stash of drugs.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

Having no clue as to where my parents went for over an hour and a half, I practiced my dance to pass the time before their return.

I remained slightly heartbroken some days after my father told me that I was forbidden to dance again, and forced me to end my contract with the dance studio. Tears were running down my face as I called my instructor to tell her that I didn't deserve to be on her team. Although Miss Angie respected my "decision," I didn't think that she understood how much it pained me to say that to her.

As usual, my father only wanted to watch me suffer. But I was not going to let him stop me from dancing. After that heartbreaking evening, I vowed to practice that dance every day until I was allowed to dance again. _He_ couldn't break me no matter how hard he tried.

At around noon I heard the car approaching from down the street. Knowing that I had some time to cover up evidence of my session, I sprinted up the stairs and tugged my dancing shoes off before recovering the CD I'd left in the stereo. Then, hoping to seem occupied I grabbed my MP3 player and chose a random song.

"Leah! Where are you?" my father's demand soon carried upstairs.

"I'm up here! I'm in my room, Daddy!"

"Get down here now!"

Thinking that he wanted me to remove his shoes, I quickly jumped off of my bed and made my way towards the stairwell. But what I suddenly came across made my heart stop.

Standing in the middle of the living room was my father, holding my mother's unconscious body in his arms. Her skin was red as it revealed gradual damage from the sun, and her dried lips were pale blue. I thought she was dead.

"Oh, my—"

"Don't say anything. Just get all of the ice packs from the freezer and fill the pitcher with water," he said while resting her across the couch.

There was no need for him to tell me twice. Acting quickly I ran to the kitchen and collected the supplies that he needed. I was not quite sure what had happened to my mother or what he had done to her, but I knew that it was not the time to ask questions.

"Go turn the central air on high," he instructed as he began to take off her clothing.

Once I had finished my task, I returned to the room only to find my father applying the ice packets to different parts of her body. I found it strange that he knew what to do. For the next few minutes he spent that time trying to shake my mother awake.

"Gabriella, wake up. Come on, open your eyes."

Meanwhile I became increasingly worried that she would end up suffering from a fatal heat stroke. I couldn't lose my mother. She meant the world to me and I was not about to let her die in front of me.

"Let me call the ambulance, Dad. She needs to get to a hospital now!" I said hastily.

To him, of course, getting caught for domestic abuse was more important than the life of my mother. My father was so selfish.

"No! You are_ not_ calling 911 because they're going to notice the bruises on her body. I can't afford to get caught. Help me get her upstairs."

"But, Papa—!"

"Do you want me to hit you right now? I said to help me! Now go upstairs and fill the tub with cold water. Carry the pitcher with you," he ordered.

With no choice but to follow his commands, I grabbed the pitcher of water and headed upstairs while he gathered my mother in his arms once again. I was in tears by the time I'd reached the bathroom, fearing that she only had a few moments left to live.

"Please work. Please..." I murmured to myself as I began to fill the tub with water.

Even my father looked anxious as he brought her into the room.

"She has a pulse but it's faint. Let's hope the water wakes her up."

The situation left me utterly confused. For the past few weeks my father had been treating us like dirt and showing us what a monster he was. Now that my mother was close to death he actually cared. His forgotten affection had returned to encourage her to stay awake. I hoped that after this ordeal it meant that my father would return to normal. Hope was all I could do at that moment.

While kneeling to the floor, he hoisted her body over the edge of the tub before gently submerging her into the water. Although it wasn't enough to wake her up completely, it helped her pulse settle into a normal rhythm. Once he scooped a handful of water and splashed it onto her face, we immediately received a response.

My mother woke up with a start, gasping in shock once she realized that she was sitting in a tub of ice-cold water. My father must have been the first person she saw, because she suddenly tried to climb out of the tub. But in her weakened state she could not get up any way.

"Hold your breath," he said, no longer worried.

Before my mother could ask why, he gripped the base of her neck and immersed her head beneath the water.

"Why did you do that?" she coughed as she shot up once again.

"You were the idiot who sat in the hot car! It doesn't make sense to keep all the windows closed!"

As she began to shiver, she shot my father an accusing glare.

"And locking me in the car made sense? Why don't you take responsibility for once?" she replied angrily.

"Saving your damn life wasn't responsible? You better be thankful I didn't dump your ass on the side of the road! I could have if I wanted to."

"So, what are you saying? Don't tell me that you still care, because neglecting me sure doesn't show it!" my mother retaliated.

Although I had expected him to slap her for talking back, he did nothing. Perhaps it was because she was right and he knew it. Unwilling to accept defeat, my father silently left the room in a huff before kicking the door shut. It was evident that he was more humiliated for showing concern than he was for being wrong.

"Are you okay, Mama?" I asked as I poured a glass of water for her.

"Not really. I'm freezing and I have severe sunburn... I wouldn't be in this situation if he wasn't so careless," she grimaced.

"Even though it is his fault, I'm glad that you're okay. You really scared me."

Forgetting her annoyance for a moment, my mother grinned as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Oh, _Nena._ I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Mama. And I know how hard it's going to be to escape but please promise me that we'll get out soon," I pressed gently.

Instead of replying, my mother's features sunk in uncertainty. She hated making promises she couldn't keep, and in our case she did not know what to do.

"Well, that's the problem. I'm not sure when... if we'll ever get out. I don't want to break a promise, especially to you."

"But we have to try. We can't quit; not now."

"Do you think I like being abused like this? He punishes us just for looking outside. Imagine what he'll do to us if he found out that we tried to escape. I am _not _putting your life at risk so that we can spend the rest of our lives hiding," my mother argued gently.

"Why are you so afraid of him? He's out of the house for ten hours when he goes to work. That gives us plenty of time to run away."

"You don't understand, Leah. It's not that easy to let go. I love your father with all my heart and I just can't imagine my life without him. I know that it makes me sound dependent. He can abuse me and hurt me all he wants but this is how I feel."

"Listen to yourself, Mom! This isn't healthy. If Papa loved you as much as you loved him, he wouldn't treat you this way. Staying isn't going to keep you safe—it's going to get you killed!"

Suddenly my mother turned to me only to reveal tears streaming down her face.

"So what if he does kill me? My life is already a living hell. He's right... I'm never going to get out of here unless it's in a bag," she said miserably.

Who was this woman? All my life she was the one who encouraged me to fight for what I believed in no matter what the situation; to never give up whenever I faced adversity. Most importantly, she showed me that having self-respect, awareness and courage would help me survive even the most unforgiving circumstances. The woman weeping in front of me and willing to suffer was not my mother. She couldn't have been.

"What's happening to you, Mama? You used to be so driven and independent and passionate. You never used to take anything from anyone. Now you're letting Dad take advantage of you and control your life. This isn't you."

"You're right, this isn't me. I used to content with my life before all of this shit happened, and I can't escape because of someone who means the world to me! You probably don't care where he ends up but I do. Don't you get it? He knows that I still love him, and he knows that I'm not going to leave him," my mother sobbed.

"And what about me? You say that you always want the best for me but this... this is selfish! You're too scared to save me, your daughter, and yourself because of a man. If you don't want him to hurt me, stand up for me. Defend me! I need you to show me that you can protect me like you promised. Don't break this promise to me!"

"I'm trying, Leah! I really am! You don't know how I feel."

What I contemplated saying next would anger her immensely, but I had to tell my mother so that she knew how I felt.

"If he kills me too, would that change your mind?" I replied.

"I can't believe you! I gave you my love and affection! I gave you everything you ever wanted and you repay me by calling me selfish? What do you want from me? I'm doing the best I can!"

"I want my mother back!"

Without a word, my mother arose from the tub and stormed into her bedroom. Before I could try to explain myself, she pushed me through the door and slammed it shut. I pressed my ear against the wooden door and immediately regretted what I'd said to her once I heard her sobbing once again.

Hurting her feelings was the last thing I intended to do. All I wanted her to realize was that she needed to do the right thing for both of us, even if that meant leaving the man she fell in love with. I did love my father, but he wasn't willing to end his addiction for us. If he really cared about us, he would have never experimented with drugs in the first place. Because of his mistakes, the relationship between my mother and I was in serious jeopardy.

Something had to give before our family was torn apart.

**~WYLS~**

Later that evening as I returned downstairs to retrieve a snack, I discovered that my father had added a new substance to his reservoir of drugs. The smell was the first thing to hit me, followed by a choking cloud of smoke.

He wasn't smoking a cigarette, but marijuana. It was clear that he'd been smoking for most of the day, and gained an intense high from such heavy use.

"Where's your mom?" he asked, hardly able to hold his head up because he was so drunk.

"She's in the bedroom watching TV. She hasn't come out for hours."

"Well, tell her to get off her lazy ass and make me dinner. I'm hungry," he replied gruffly.

Knowing that it was going to take more than just convincing to make her come out, I sighed and headed back up the stairs. The television continued to blare as I approached the door, so I knew that I would have to knock loudly to get her attention.

"Mama, Daddy says that he's hungry! He wants you to make dinner for him now," I shouted above the noise, hoping that she would hear me.

As expected, I received no response and tried again.

"You don't have to do it for me. Just come downstairs before he comes _for_ you."

It was only a matter of time until my father would grow impatient and teach her a lesson on obedience, so I was determined to get her out of the room before something happened to her.

"Damn it, Leah! Where is she?!" he soon bellowed.

"She'll be out in a minute, Papa."

Whatever was keeping my mother from getting up; I hoped that it was more important than making his dinner. After another minute of knocking and pleading for my mother to come out, my father's patience had completely worn thin.

I prepared to watch a brutal scene unfold as his footsteps came pounding up the stairwell. In a drunken rage, he stumbled towards the door and shoved me to the carpet. When my father was drunk he seemed to have the strength of a wild animal, and nothing could stop him from using it to his advantage.

I flinched as he punched a hole through the door before reaching in to twist the lock. From the doorway I watched him march towards my sleeping mother and slammed his fist down on her head. She immediately jolted awake and cried in pain. But he was far from finished. Before she could attempt to get away my father pinned her against the mattress and began raining blows down on her head and body.

"When I tell you to do something, you listen to me!" he growled in between punches.

She didn't even know why she was being punished. I had to step in to clarify the situation.

"Stop it, Dad! She didn't know!"

Blind with fury, my father then dragged her out of bed and forced her onto the floor. My mother writhed in pain as he repeatedly kicked her in the back and sides. Without thinking, I grabbed him by the wrists to prevent him from inflicting more damage.

"I said to stop it! You're hurting her!" I screamed.

Whether it was the adrenaline coursing through my veins or the sheer will to save my mother, I was able to restrain my father. But only for a moment. He quickly turned his anger onto me, which was exactly what I had expected him to do.

I braced myself for impact once he gave me a hard elbow to the nose. Blood immediately began to flow because of the force of the hit, and my mother was quick to notice.

"Troy, no!"

The next few seconds seemed to pass like hours as my father continued to take out his frustration on me. As much as my mother tried to pull him off of me, he kept pushing her away while his fists pounded against my body. I thought that he was never going to stop hitting me, until he found himself in the middle of a struggle with my mother. She attached herself onto his back and began to punch, slap and scratch at his head; whatever she could to get him off of me.

Although it worked, I knew that she would receive an even worse beating for getting in his way. The single punch he gave my mother sent her reeling back, but she took the hit with grace and approached him once more. I felt as though I was watching a ragdoll being tossed around the room. My father slammed her body against the wall, the furniture; anything that was hard.

It didn't occur to me that things would get even more gruesome, until he wrestled her to the floor again. Then, using one foot to hold her down, he raised the other in the air and stomped her wrist with the heel of his shoe. The loud crunch that followed sent chills up my spine. Now my mother was really in pain.

The entire house became filled with the deafening sound of her anguished cries, as she cradled her crushed wrist with the other hand.

Clearly satisfied with his efforts, my father only chuckled and said, "That'll teach you to mess with me."

For good measure, he kicked her hard before leaving the room.

Too stunned to move, I did not know what to do as she continued to squirm on the floor in tears. She didn't realize that I was still there until she opened her eyes.

"Help me, Leah. Please. It hurts so badly," she whimpered.

Treating a broken wrist was not something I did every day, but for her sake I was determined to learn within five minutes.

"Okay, but hold on. I'm going to have to search treatment at home."

"Please hurry."

Luckily, I was able to find information on the internet in less than a minute and read the instructions carefully.

"First I have to make a splint to keep from moving. It says that I can use a magazine or a newspaper to make one. Do you have any of those?" I asked her.

"Look in my nightstand. I might have a magazine."

While grabbing a magazine from the drawer, I also hunted for a few small towels to act as padding for her wrist. Other supplies I needed included a large bandana to act as a sling and an ice pack to reduce any potential swelling. Once I stabilized the wrist, my mother wrapped her free arm around me so that I could help her back to bed.

She sighed as the pain seemed to reduce slightly, and reached out to cup my face.

"Thank you so much, Leah. I don't know what I would do without you," she said.

"It's nothing. You stopped him from hurting me anymore, so it only makes sense that I would do this for you."

My mother frowned to herself as she observed me holding a towel against my bloodied nose.

"Not completely..."

"It's not that bad. It doesn't seem broken," I reassured her.

"I'm proud of you, Leah. You came to my rescue when I needed you and faced your father to help me. I wish that I could be as brave as you," she murmured sadly.

"But look at what you just did. You fought Dad and took him on like a champion. You're getting there, Mama."

Feeling a little more confident than before, my mother managed a smile and pulled me into a hug.

"I guess so..."

"Mama, I'm sorry for calling you selfish earlier. I know how difficult it is to leave someone or something that you love. I love him, too. But don't you want to take your life back and get to do all the things he stopped you from doing? You won't have to worry about meeting his expectations or living in fear that he'll punish you. You can be free—we both can. You'll be happy again, Mama."

With a contemplative sigh, my mother let my words sink in as she finally came up with a reply.

"I _do_ want to be happy again; more than anything in the world. Most importantly I'd like to put a smile back on this beautiful face," she said fondly, which instinctively caused me to grin.

"So, what do you say?"

"I say that we take back control of our lives and get out of this place. But first we're going to have to come up with a plan and wait for the right time, okay? We're going to be free, Leah. I just know it," she said, determination evident in her voice.

"Promise, Mama?"

As if to seal her vow, my mother leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. I could see in her eyes that she truly meant it.

"I promise."

**I am so glad that the ideas for this chapter came as quickly as it did. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday night working until after 3:00 in the morning and it was well worth it. Tell me what you think and as I promised, I will post as soon as I have access to a high-speed computer (which, I hope will be very soon). Please review and thank you! **


	10. Help

**Happy Tuesday everybody! I'm so glad to be back now that school has started. Luckily I was able to use the computer lab in the campus' library today and I finally got to turn this draft into a chapter. I will be using the lab as my updating source until I get my laptop. Thanks for the reviews last time. I hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter 10: Help**

**Gabriella**

Besides having to endure such heartless treatment by my husband, I began to notice a strange pattern. Whenever his violent outbursts left me down for the count, it seemed as though he could not remove himself from the situation completely.

At least thirty minutes after he had broken my wrist, he returned to the room and told me to get dressed. Not knowing where Troy was planning on taking me, I hesitated until he barked at me to hurry. He then called a taxi cab and demanded that I wait outside for it. He was much too drunk to drive.

"Tell them... Tell them that someone robbed you. Don't you dare open your big mouth or even try to get away. Get back here as soon as they're done with you," he slurred before locking me out of the house.

Either this was just another one of his sick games or guilt was starting to creep up on him. Perhaps he cared more than he wanted to.

Now left to my own devices, I sat shivering on the front step until the cab driver arrived. I quickly scooted into the car and told him where I wanted to go.

The man had to take a second glance at me, as I kept the hood of my black sweatshirt up to keep the injuries to my face hidden. Also, I wore the large, dark shades that I often used to shield my swollen eyes. Troy knew that it was risky to send me to the hospital without raising suspicion, so he was relying on me to convince them that I was the victim of a random attack.

I could have blackmailed him by threatening to tell the truth, but I didn't. Stooping down to his level wasn't going to make me any better than him.

Once we had arrived at the hospital, I paid the driver before bidding him a good night. Hoping to make my injury appear fresh, I got rid of my makeshift sling and gingerly caressed my damaged wrist with the other hand. Like any other patient with minimal to moderate injuries, I discreetly strolled into the lobby and approached the female receptionist.

As she glanced up at me, she unknowingly stared at the bruises covering my body. I had never felt so self-conscious before. Fortunately, she caught herself before the ground threatened to swallow me up.

"Ahem—hello! How may I help you, Miss?"

"Um, I was attacked by someone and they broke my wrist. I didn't know them at all but I know that it was a man. It's been swollen for a while now," I replied nervously, hoping that she wouldn't suspect anything further.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry. May I see your insurance card?"

"I-I don't have it on me. I was carrying a bag and he took it from me."

"That's no problem at all. Just give me your name and phone number and we should have someone for you shortly," she said with a warm smile.

Luckily the waiting room was practically empty since it was past 9:00, and I could sit in an isolated corner without being gawked at. After ten minutes I was allowed to enter the nurse practitioner's office, where I waited until she stepped into the room.

The woman was Latina like me, only she was younger by a few years. Her long, black curls remained tied back in a loose bun and she had a caring smile to match her warm, brown eyes.

"Good evening. Are you Gabriella Bolton?"

"Yes," I responded timidly.

"I am so sorry to hear what happened. I'm Nurse Leticia Jiménez. Have you called the authorities to report the robbery?"

"I couldn't call 911 because my cell phone was in my bag. I was jogging home when I was attacked. It happened so fast that I couldn't tell if I knew the person or not."

"That's okay. You can report it at any time using the best description you can recall," she assured me.

Making a false claim to the police was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm afraid that he'll try to find me if I go to the police."

"That's highly unlikely, Mrs. Bolton, especially if the suspect doesn't know you. May I take a look?"

While Leticia proceeded to observe my wrist, I flinched and whimpered in pain as she took it into her hands. "How long has it been broken?" she asked me.

"For almost an hour. The pain hasn't gone away since I removed the ice pack from it a few minutes ago."

"I see. It doesn't appear very swollen and it was wise of you to put ice on it. I can't tell how broken it is just by looking at it, so we're going to have to take an X-ray to see the extent of the fracture."

Within minutes I was escorted to the adjacent room, where the nurse and her assistant prepared me for the procedure. Since I was not questioned about my bruises so far, I assumed that they thought that the "incident" had left me bruised.

After we returned to her office, I received a small dose of anesthesia so that she could reset the fracture to align the bones in my wrist.

"Everything looks great. It seems like your wrist will not heal crookedly, and you appear to have no nerve damage whatsoever. Now we have to make a cast out of plaster to keep your wrist immobilized," she said.

"Okay."

For a moment, I thought that I was going to walk out of that hospital without anyone suspecting a thing. While the nurse and I waited for the plaster to harden around my forearm, she reached over to grab several rolls of bandages when something caught her eye.

"Hmm... That's strange."

"What is it?" I asked fearfully.

"It seems as though you appear to have several fading bruises underneath the new ones. They look about a few weeks old... My God, they're all over your body."

Before she could grasp my right arm to take a closer look, I quickly pulled away and scrambled to make an excuse.

"Uhh, I-I bruise easily. Last month I was helping my parents move and I got banged up a little. It's okay—I get them all the time," I replied hastily.

If my brisk claim was not enough to cause skepticism, my unwillingness to remove my oversized sunglasses wasn't much to convince her otherwise. A few silent and awkward minutes passed before Leticia suspended my forearm in a sling. She then placed a gentle hand against my upper arm.

"Are you sure?" she inquired softly.

Suddenly, my throat began to ache as I felt the urge to cry.

"Yes."

Knowing that there was something I was not telling her, the nurse shrugged and rose to her feet.

"All right, then. You're good to go, Mrs. Bolton. You must return every two weeks to get this replaced because if you don't, you may put yourself at risk for infection. Try not to get it wet and do not use any sharp object whatsoever to scratch if the cast gets itchy, okay?"

"I won't. Thank you so much," I replied gratefully.

"You're very welcome."

As I turned to head through the doors, I froze once I heard the nurse call my name. Freedom was just a few steps away.

"Gabriella?"

"Mm-hm?"

She approached me holding a card and placed it into my hand.

"Here's my card. I'm not allowed to mention this in the workplace, but I do make house calls. Take it just in case you have any problems with your cast or someone to talk to; anything at all. Just give me a call and I'll always pick up," she offered gently.

Left partially stunned by her generous offer, I had not expected a person whom I'd never met before to be so accommodating. She knew exactly what was going on.

"Thank you... _Eso es muy amable de tu parte_ (that's very nice of you)."

"It's no problem at all. I'm just here to help those who are in need."

Although nurse Jiménez would not see past my sunglasses, her gaze pierced mine with an intensity that nearly caused me to buckle. Leticia searched my blank expression for anything that would reveal the truth about me and my life, but I was not about to let her find out. It wasn't because I hardly knew her. She quickly showed me that she could be trusted.

The problem with keeping in contact with her was that she would become quickly concerned about me if she suspected that something was wrong. Troy made it his absolute duty to keep my family from getting in contact with me, and if he knew that someone else was trying to check up on me I'd surely pay the price.

After giving the nurse one last "good night," I stepped through the door.

Even though I knew that Troy would kill me if he found the business card, I kept the number just in case. Perhaps if my daughter and I needed a place to stay after we escaped, I was sure that Leticia would be happy to oblige.

Hopefully, her concern would not lead to the dramatic arrest of my husband.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

There must have been a reason why my father suddenly decided to send my mother to the hospital.

He didn't care that she was getting proper treatment for her injury or that he'd put himself at potential risk of getting caught. He wanted her to be gone so that I could be left alone with him. It was obvious that he was planning to make an advance towards me. But it did not happen immediately.

Although my mother had been gone for almost an hour, he remained on the couch smoking and drinking heavily. I was in the kitchen, still scrubbing dishes after he'd ordered me to clean the room until it was spotless.

Knowing that he could strike at any moment was nerve-wracking. I just wanted him to stop tormenting me and attack already, instead of stalling just to see me on edge. He knew what he was doing by letting me self-destruct in my own fear.

"Bring me another beer, Leah. Hurry up," he commanded for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

Getting to my feet with a sigh, I wiped the layer of sweat from my forehead and reached out to open the refrigerator. As I approached my father in the living room, an ominous feeling began to brew in the pit of my stomach. It was a sensation that I experienced whenever I was around him, but I wasn't concerned.

Ignoring the bad feeling, I popped the can open and handed it to him. Suddenly, his palm clamped around my wrist, which sent a tremor rattling up my spine. His breath reeked of alcohol as he whispered into my ear.

"You still owe me that kiss. Don't keep me waiting," he murmured.

His hold grew stronger once I attempted to pull away, until a pained whimper emerged from my lips.

"Why are you so afraid of me, Angel? All I want is to steal just one little kiss from those beautiful lips of yours."

"Please let me go," I pleaded softly.

"Why should I? You're gorgeous, innocent... small. You can't imagine the things I want to do to you."

"Daddy—"

"I've been waiting so long for this moment and I can't wait any longer," he said.

Before my father could force me against himself, I managed to pry my arm from his grip and sprinted towards the staircase. For the first time I was relieved that he was drunk, only because it took him longer to keep up.

While his footsteps deliberately plodded up the stairs, I frantically searched for a hiding place. The den and his bedroom were the first places I knew he would check, so I decided to hide in my bedroom. An even better place was the attic. Unfortunately, I could not lock him out due to my missing door and I knew that precious time was ticking by with every second I spent trying to pull the attic staircase down.

"Don't run, Leah. Daddy just wants to play with you," the dreadful voice carried throughout the hallway.

He was getting closer, and I was wasting most of my strength tugging on that door. For a moment, I froze in place thinking that I had run out of places to hide. My father was going to have his way with me and my mother wasn't there to stop him. She would never allow him to hurt me even if he did rule the household.

Before I thought that he was going to find me, I realized that the bed was the only option left for me. Wasting no time I wormed beneath my bed just as he paused in the doorway. I resorted to biting on my own hand to prevent frightened sobs from escaping. All I could see were his shoes as they circled the room in search of me.

"So you wanna play Hide and Seek, baby? You wanna play games? Come out, come out, wherever you are," he chuckled menacingly.

I shut my eyes tightly, wishing that I was somewhere else; wishing that my mother was there to protect me. Anything to avoid having my innocence stolen by my father.

He first searched the adjacent bathroom as well as my closet. I let out a sigh once he forced the attic door open, relieved that I did not have the chance to hide there in the first place. After a few long minutes he was starting to grow impatient, and I hoped that he would soon give up.

I crept forward slightly to get a closer look, when a pair of bloodshot eyes appeared from what seemed like out of nowhere. His sudden appearance caused me to gasp in fright.

"There you are, you sneaky little girl. Come here."

My father eagerly grabbed hold of my ankle and dragged me along the carpet before I could attach myself to the mattress support. I did not think that anything was extremely intimidating about the situation, until he removed his jeans to reveal a full erection protruding from his boxers. The terrifying sight brought back haunting memories that I often wanted to forget.

While I screamed and begged to be released, he hauled me up by my curls and pinned me against the bed. His power was unequaled, but that wasn't going to stop me from protecting myself. I slapped, punched, and kicked him with all the strength I could muster. The more he attempted to remove my clothing, the more I fought back.

However, he fought back even harder. Blows rained down on my head as he grew impatient and tried to beat me into submission.

"Hold still!" he growled.

Within minutes of the struggle, I was starting to become very exhausted while my father seemed to be getting stronger. He soon got ahold of my pants and yanked them from my legs before tearing my shirt off. This was going to happen no matter how much I fought, and I knew that the only way that I was going to escape was if someone came to my rescue. At that point I didn't care if that rescue arrived in the form of my mother, a neighbor or the police.

Once I heard footsteps rushing through the hallway, I realized that help was well on its way. My father didn't seem to notice as he kept grappling to remove my bra.

My mother crept around the darkness cautiously, making sure not to be heard. While approaching him from behind, she silently calculated the exact moment she would strike. I was not sure how she planned on stopping him, but she needed to do it quickly before he got any further.

It was clear that she was left with no other choice as she reluctantly grabbed the large glass lamp from my desk.

She was trembling terribly, and I knew that it pained her to stop him like that. From that moment everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. My father sat up to strip off his own shirt, giving my mother the clear shot she needed to take him down.

Then, in a single second, she swung for his head before he could peel off the last article of my clothing: my underwear. I shut my eyes at the moment of impact, and listened to the shatter of the glass as it collided with his skull. The movement quickly ceased followed by silence. It was not long before I felt a warm liquid trickling down my neck.

When I opened my eyes I was horrified to find my father lying on top of me, blood dripping from the back of his head. My mother gasped at the bloodied shards of glass and dropped whatever was left of the splintered lamp as if she'd been burnt.

She had no idea how grateful I was to see her.

"Leah," she breathed, opening her arms to me.

"Mommy..."

After squirming out from beneath my father, I ran into her arms, deeply shaken by the traumatic ordeal. We both sunk to the floor embracing and crying as if I had survived a near-death experience. Being raped by my father certainly would have killed me on the inside.

"Oh, Sweetheart. I had no idea he was trying to hurt you. If I hadn't gotten here in time..."

"No, it's not you, Mama. I wanted to tell you but I was just scared and ashamed. He made me feel so gross," I sobbed.

"Don't ever feel ashamed to talk to me. I will do anything to protect you, even if it's from your own father. He's just a sick, thoughtless man who cares about no one but himself."

After she helped me to my feet, I rushed to collect my torn clothes. Meanwhile, she stepped closer to the bed and observed my still father.

"Oh, my God. Do you think I might have... killed him?" she asked fearfully.

"I don't know. You can check, but be careful."

As my mother leaned over him, I remained by her side in case something were to happen. With a shaking hand she pressed her fingers against the underside of his chin to check his pulse. To our relief he was only unconscious.

Now was our chance to escape.

"He's alive. Let's get out of here before he wakes up."

"But where are we going to stay in the meantime? It's the middle of the night," I said.

She grew silent, possibly contemplating where we would stay for the night. We both knew that her parents' house was out of the question. There was no telling how they would react if they found out what my father had done to us. They would either call the police or hunt him down themselves.

"You're right. I don't have much money on me because he took over my bank account. But I know that he keeps a stash of emergency money in the den. Let's hurry because we have to pack."

Wasting no time, my mother and I shuffled into the den, where we scoured the place in search of the hidden safe my father kept there. After taking a moment to figure out the lock combination, she grabbed as much money as she could and stuffed it into her pockets. The constant fear of my father waking up to find us taking his money ran wild in our thoughts, and we packed all that we could before stowing our things in the car.

But before we could leave our entire lives behind, my mother ventured upstairs and stepped close to the man who once promised us the world. It was understandable that she still felt a great amount of love and concern for him. I also loved my father, but leaving him was for the best. It wasn't worth living with someone who hurt us and made our lives a nightmare.

She dismally raked her fingers through his hair and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"I love you... Please get the help you need," she whispered in his ear.

Then, without looking back, my mother wiped a single tear away and took my hand.

"Let's get out of here."

**~WYLS~**

**The Next Morning**

**Troy**

I was promptly greeted by a searing headache once I had awakened that Sunday morning. My excessive drinking had caused me to develop an awful hangover while the lasting effects of my drug use lingered obnoxiously. I would usually experience such burdensome side effects once the incredible sensations of the PCP, LSD or marijuana wore off, leaving me to face reality once again.

In all honesty I hated what my life had amounted to. My family was not happy and neither was I. The drugs and alcohol seemed to numb those troubling feelings of depression I often experienced, and if sacrificing my wife and daughter's happiness was going to make me feel better, then so be it.

I didn't think that they understood that I never wanted to hurt them. Despite the treatment I'd been giving them over the past month, I still loved them with all of my heart. However, I knew that it was too late to beg for their forgiveness. They probably hated me.

Because of that, my addiction now served as an emotional painkiller.

Even as my face remained buried in the pillow, I blindly reached over to grab a few pills from my nightstand. But the bag containing my stash was not there. So I stretched further without lifting my head from the pillow. That was when my fingers brushed against something plush.

This was not my nightstand. More importantly, this was not my bed.

Finally, as I brought my head from the pillow to take a glance at what I was touching, I grew perplexed upon finding Leah's pink teddy bear. It was the same bear I gave to her on her first birthday. Although she was just a baby and couldn't express her joy in words, I knew that she appreciated my token of affection once she grabbed my face between her tiny palms.

She kept the teddy bear by her side as she continued to grow, but for reasons I never understood, abandoned it in her closet some days before her thirteenth birthday. It was unfortunate that I hadn't realized that my Angel did not want to be considered little anymore. In my eyes, she was still in diapers. I was abusing my baby.

Not knowing how I ended up in my daughter's bed, I sat up and took in my surroundings. Articles of clothing, pieces of furniture and mismatched shoes remained scattered across the carpet. I sighed to myself. Yet again I was surrounded by the aftermath of my drunken wrath, left alone to pick up the pieces. Nothing more than what had become "the usual" in my household.

I had been so drunk the night before that I couldn't even remember what happened. Though it was obvious that I'd passed out after making a violent mess of the room, I soon received a clue that aroused my suspicions yet scared me at the same time.

As I pressed my palms into the bed to push to my feet, I grunted in pain once a sharp object sliced into my finger. I glanced down only to find shards of glass littering the mattress as well as the floor. That was not the worst part.

I was horrified to discover that the sheets and carpet around me were stained with blood. Judging by the dried pool of blood that I found on the pillow I was laying on, I knew that I'd suffered a major injury. But how? I quickly assessed the damage by feeling the back of my head, and winced as my fingers came in contact with the large gash there.

It was like hitting a start button. Suddenly, memories of last night's events flooded my thoughts. All I could recall was a struggle, screaming, clothes ripping, and then, darkness. Clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, I soon realized that I had achieved what I once considered to be my worst nightmare.

I'd raped my daughter.

It was evident that she had put up a desperate fight to protect her innocence after leaving a collection of bruises and scratches along my chest and arms. My wife must have returned from the hospital and stopped me the only way she knew how, but it was probably too late.

Had the drugs altered my sense of right and wrong so much that I was compelled to hurt Leah? I couldn't forgive myself for raping Gabriella, but knowing that I'd done the same to my daughter was indescribable. There was no way I could even begin to make sense of the guilt, shame and anger I felt for breaking my most important promise to her.

The thought of ruining her trust in me and violating it over and over made me sick. I doubled over on the mattress and spilled the contents of my stomach.

As much as I didn't want to numb the pain by taking drugs, they were going to help me cope. Before my emotions could get the better of me, I staggered to my feet and wandered into my bedroom in search of my stash. Perhaps my wife was too angry with me to stay upstairs, and decided to sleep in the living room with Leah. Surely, she must have been traumatized.

As expected I found my stash in its usual place, tucked beneath a hidden compartment in my nightstand. Along with the sealed bag that contained the drugs, I stopped short upon touching what felt like a piece of paper.

"Gabriella! What's this?" I called down the hallway, looking for an answer.

Usually I would've received an answer almost immediately, but no one replied.

"Gabriella!"

Growing slightly impatient, I swallowed a few pills before opening the folded note. My heart sunk once I read the long message.

_Dear Troy, _

_You've always promised that if you were to hurt us you'd leave just to prove how much you loved us. Well, you have hurt us but you never once thought of leaving. You only seemed like a man of your word until last month. I wrote this to tell you that I haven't given up on the promises I made to myself and to my daughter. I can't tell you how much pain and suffering your addiction has caused us. You wouldn't believe how broken I became after you took advantage of me a few weeks ago. When you had sex with me the second and third time, I became somewhat used to it by then. No woman should ever adjust to rape. No child should either. _

_When I found you almost naked, sitting on top of Leah and trying to take her clothes off, I was terrified. I realized that it was time to act. It was obvious that things had gotten too far, but if you raped Leah that would've certainly topped all of the horrible things you did to us before. If you're wondering right now how you ended up in Leah's bedroom, just look at the shattered lamp on the floor. I had to resort to almost killing you to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life; a mistake that I'm sure would haunt this family forever. I couldn't risk living under the same roof with you knowing that Leah had become a part of your sexual appetite. _

_You have an illness and you need help serious help. So until you decide that you would rather have your family over nothing, we're never coming back. Leah and I still love you the same way we have for all these years. Don't think for a second that we hate you, because we could never feel that way about you. Not only are we concerned for our own safety; we're concerned about you as well. _

_You will kill yourself if you keep abusing drugs and alcohol every day. I didn't want to tell you this way but if it's going to motivate you to seek treatment, then I'll tell you again. You will die. _

_You were the one man I thought I could trust. Instead you proved to me that the only man I could trust is my father. Unfortunately, Leah can't even trust you anymore. The very least you have is that she loves you. But love without trust can't be true. Please get help. _

_Yo siempre te amaré, Gabriella Yvonne Aracely Montez._

Tears were streaming down my face before I'd completed that letter.

My wife, my daughter; everything I could have ever wanted out of life was gone. Because of my negligence and my selfishness, the two people I once promised the world to had disappeared from my life forever. "

No," I said to myself, refusing to believe that they left me.

They would never leave me. They couldn't.

It wasn't long before my heartbreak gave way to fury. It was not the same violent fury I experienced whenever the drugs kicked in but a genuine, emotional fury that motivated me to get them back any way I could. Gabriella and Leah were not going to get away from me that easily, and if they thought that I would give up, they were dead wrong.

I was going to find them one way or another.

**I can tell that many of you are very happy that Gabi and her daughter escaped, but that was a close one, wasn't it? If you're now wondering if this story is halfway over, of course it isn't! Sit tight and I'll be back soon with another installment. Thanks for reading and tell me what you thought of Leah's close call. :)**


	11. Unforgivable

**Hey guys, I know it seems like forever since I've updated but school has been so hectic. I did not get as much reviews for the last chapter as I had expected, and I was a little disappointed to be honest. But I'm very thankful for those who did. Anyway I have tons of plans for the rest of this story so sit tight and I hope you enjoy this one! :)**

**Chapter 11: Unforgivable**

**Leah**

As my mother and I continued our 200 mile journey from New Mexico to Texas, she could not seem to stop looking back.

Part of it was fear and paranoia, but anyone could see that she was still heartbroken after having to leave my father. The tears she brushed away with the back of her hand never seemed to cease during the long drive. I reminded her that she wasn't the only one who missed him.

Despite his failed attempt to rape me, I eventually accepted that he didn't mean to hurt me. His heavy drug use made him someone he wasn't, and I couldn't blame him for acting under the control of hallucinogens.

Had he gotten the chance to take advantage of me, I would have forgiven him eventually. He was my father, after all.

"Mama, when are we going to stop? We passed a bunch of hotels already," I told my mother, only to receive an impatient sigh.

"Leah, what did I tell you earlier? I'm not stopping until I know that we're far enough. We can't risk getting caught."

"But we left Las Cruces almost three hours ago. I doubt that he'll search Texas before the rest of New Mexico."

_"¡Cállate, Leah! Mientras soy tu madre, tú me escuches._ End of discussion!" she snapped.

I took a deep breath to prevent myself from crying, and she immediately regretted what she said.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to say shut up. The past few hours have just been so stressful for me. But I promise you that we'll find a nice hotel that has everything we need, okay, _Nena?"_

"Okay, Mami," I replied a few seconds later.

As promised, my mother soon pulled to a stop in front of a hotel once we'd reached the city of Pecos. To that very day, she had never broken a promise to me.

The place was small and cozy, yet it wasn't slovenly or outdated like a motel. It was just right.

Exhausted from driving with one hand for the past few hours, my mother let go of the wheel with an exhale of relief.

"Finally," she murmured to herself.

"How does your arm feel?"

"It feels like it's about to fall off."

I giggled and leaned forward to wrap my arms around her. She managed a weary smile as I planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

"I think that you should start teaching me how to drive. That way I can take over while you rest for a while. You deserve a break," I replied affectionately.

"Aww, you're so sweet, baby. Come on, let's go check in. I'm about to pass out in this car."

Eager to settle into our room, my mother and I gathered our luggage from the car before approaching the front desk.

"Good morning, Ma'am. How may I help you?" the female clerk replied, seemingly unfazed by our battered appearances.

"My daughter and I need a room to stay for a few days. I didn't have the chance to make an arrangement beforehand, but do you have any rooms available?"

"Of course we do. Name?"

"Gabriella... Bolton," she nearly hesitated.

"All right. The only seven rooms we have open right now are located on the first floor, second floor, and fifth floor. Four on the first, one on the second and two on the fifth. Which one would you like?"

"What kind of rooms are on the fifth floor?"

"Since our highest floor is the fifth floor, they are suites. Amenities include a mini refrigerator, cable TV, high-speed internet and a dining nook. However the cost per night is only $180, wheras it would cost $250 to $300 at any other hotel," the woman replied.

"Okay, that seems reasonable. But do you take cash?" my mother then asked nervously.

For the slightest moment the woman seemed as though she was going to turn us down. But she looked like the type of person who provided help no matter the circumstances.

After what felt like minutes, her lips curved into a warm smile, and she nodded in response.

"Perhaps I'll make an exception this time. You two look like you've been traveling for days."

For us, it _did_ feel like days.

"Thank you so much. You just made our morning so much easier."

"No problem. We're always here to help."

Once the clerk received all of the information she needed, she gave my mother the key to our room.

"Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope you have a nice stay!" she called cheerfully as we hauled our luggage towards the elevator.

While we were lifted to the top, she turned to me and smiled.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought. She was pretty nice."

"Yeah, she was. But I can't help thinking that she somehow felt sorry for us. Look us: we're covered in bruises, you have a broken wrist, and we have an obnoxious amount of cash with us. Anyone can see that we're runaways," I whispered self-consciously.

"That may be the case, Leah. But at least we have a place to stay and, most importantly, your father will never know where we are."

My mother was right. It didn't matter how we looked to other people, as long as we had each other to rely on, and as long as my father had no clue just how far we went to escape that hellhole we once called home.

Hopefully with our absence, he would realize that he couldn't live without us.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

There was absolutely no force on earth that could stop me from wanting to kill my wife and daughter.

Not only had they left me without any knowledge of their whereabouts, but they'd gotten away with one of my cars and the $3,500 dollars cash I had locked up in my safe.

I was past furious.

That morning I retreated to my home gym and began meditating on how I would find them, all while pounding on the punching bag in the corner.

I imagined that the equipment was Gabriella. I imagined her cowering in fear and begging for mercy as I taught her a well-deserved lesson. She was so weak.

Soon enough I would show both of them that they made a mistake by leaving me. They were certainly going to find out.

Once most of the side effects from my drug use seemed to fade away, I called in sick for work again and created a strategy that would help me find Gabriella and Leah. I was going to find them on my own, but not without receiving clues from anyone who happened to see them.

Before leaving the house, I returned to my bedroom and reached for the picture frame on my nightstand. It was the most recent picture of them, and the best. I remembered that day like it was yesterday.

Gabriella kept reminding me that we needed to take a new family portrait to share with our relatives, and of course I was happy to oblige.

The day after Leah's thirteenth birthday, we drove to the local studio in our Sunday best. My wife was adorned in a beautiful cream dress that easily fluttered whenever she walked, while my daughter wore a bright spring dress to match the current season. I settled with a blue dress top and a pair of white pants. We looked like the perfect family.

We had made an agreement with the photographer to take individual portraits, coupled photos and a picture that included our small family.

As I sat on the stool to have my portrait taken, Gabriella and Leah eagerly watched from behind the photographer, making funny faces to make me smile. It did not take much for them to make me happy.

Next up was my daughter, who decided that she wanted to do a leaning pose on the elegant ivory table in the corner. I would do anything for her. She couldn't help thanking me as I requested for her to use the table. Despite a raise in the cost, I knew that getting Leah the picture she envisioned was worth it.

Her blue eyes shining as bright as the sun, my daughter folded her arms across the table, gazed into the camera and developed a magical smile. No other girl on earth was as gorgeous as her. To that day I still found it difficult believing that I'd played a part in creating such a perfect child.

Last but not least, Gabriella also used the table, but in a way that was just as unique as her. While the other awaiting family gave her strange looks, we only laughed once she slipped her heels off before tossing them behind herself. She then laid across the piece of furniture knowing that it was roughly the length of her body. After tucking one arm beneath her head, she placed the other on the table in front of her. For a fleeting moment, my heart skipped a beat as her green eyes pierced through the lens.

My wife still remained the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I never felt that I was ever worthy of her love, but she proved that I was worthy of anything once she accepted my marriage proposal.

Our photo day was far from over. Following our own portraits, we had to do pictures as couples. Gabriella and I took some pictures sharing kisses, cuddling and just being in each other's arms. For the next set of pictures, she returned behind the camera while Leah hopped onto my back. My wife found it adorable the way my angel wrapped her arms around me and planted a kiss against my cheek. It was the only picture of us that she insisted on keeping.

Finally, I stepped back so that my two favorite girls could have their moment in the spotlight. They chose to keep it simple. Gabriella locked her arms around Leah's shoulders and leaned close to her. Right before the photographer raised the camera to snap the picture, my daughter turned to her and came up with a cute yet touching sentiment.

"I bet I'm the daughter you always dreamed of having, right?" she said wittily, which undoubtedly caused my wife to laugh.

Tears were welling up in her eyes as she hugged Leah even tighter. Perhaps part of that emotion was the reality that her baby girl was growing up faster than she'd anticipated.

"Yes, you are. You're exactly what I've always wanted... A beautiful daughter who makes every day worth living."

They shared a sweet peck and murmured brief "I love you's" before gazing into the camera once more. Their identical smiles seemed to illuminate the room with nothing but gratitude, happiness and love. The portrait became our favorite once we eventually returned to pick up all of our pictures. We made several copies of them and sent them to the rest of our families.

As for me, I had bought a frame to keep the portrait near my bedside so that their smiles were the first things I saw when I woke up every morning. I would only thank them for loving me by being a husband and father who was determined to give them the best lives possible. They were my world.

But now that the two most important people to me were gone, it felt as though they had ripped my heart out and tossed it into the gutter without the slightest ounce of remorse. I was hurt and they knew it.

From that day on I vowed to find them and make them feel the same pain I experienced when I realized that they were never coming back. I was going to make them suffer for ever thinking that they could leave me. That was a promise that I swore never to break to my wife and daughter.

**~WYLS~**

**Two Days Later**

**Gabriella**

Troy was on my mind again as he had been for the past few days.

His menacing presence continued to haunt me in my dreams, which kept me on edge despite the distance that separated us. My husband was not one to give up easily, and I sensed that it was a matter of time before he would venture out to seek revenge.

Getting caught by Troy was inevitable, so we had to keep moving if we didn't want him finding clues of our whereabouts. In a few days, my daughter and I would have to pack up our things again and move to another hotel in a whole new town.

It wasn't going to be easy, but at least we had each other. Not even that monster back home could come between us.

"Mama, I'm bored. Can we go out by the pool?" she pleaded in almost a whine.

"I thought you'd never ask, _Nena._ You usually beg to go to the pool the minute we step foot in a hotel. Let's find your swimsuit."

Before I could attempt to rummage through my daughter's suitcase, she stepped forward and quickly zipped it shut.

"What's the matter? It's not in this one?" I questioned.

"It's there... But I don't really feel like swimming today. I'd rather just sit in the shade with you."

Skeptically, I looked my daughter right in the eyes, never letting my gaze falter until her own flickered towards the floor. She was lying.

Clearly, Leah was hiding something that she didn't want me to know about. Instead of beating around the bush, I decided to cut right to the chase.

"Care to explain what's going on? You're not yourself today."

"Nothing is wrong, Mama. I just don't want to swim. That's all," she insisted.

As I reached out to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear, she shrunk away in discomfort. Suddenly, I realized why she didn't want to go swimming.

"Leah..."

"Yes, Mama?"

"Sweetheart, no matter how uncomfortable you might feel right now, I need you to tell me the truth. You don't have to be scared, okay?" I encouraged gently.

After a long moment of contemplation, my daughter slowly nodded her head.

"Okay."

"Before your father tried to hurt you; before I came into your room and stopped him, what else did he do to you? Please don't leave anything out because I really need to know."

My heart ached once tears of shame began streaming down her face. Without a word, I quickly embraced her in my arms and allowed her to cry on my shoulder until she felt confident enough to speak.

"Last night wasn't the first time he... tried to make a move on me," she murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"For weeks he's been harassing me. It started when he would watch me do chores or make me tie his shoes. At first he never said anything, but soon he started making gross comments to me. I felt so uncomfortable around him. There were times when he groped me whenever he sent you out to run errands. Most of the time he didn't get very far because I'd cry until he stopped. He'd stroke my hair and try to force me to kiss him. He'd tell me that I was beautiful and that he wanted to show me how much he loved me by taking my virginity. I was scared. I didn't want him to rape me. Even though we're far away from him, it's like he's still here. He's in my dreams when I sleep, and I can feel his presence following me wherever I go. I can't go anywhere without thinking that he's going to find me and finish what he started."

As my daughter broke into sobs again, I finally accepted that I'd made the right decision by running away with her. Not only had his attempt left her potentially traumatized for the rest of her life, but she could no longer be in the presence of any man, much less her own father. Troy cared about no one but himself.

"Oh, Leah. Why didn't you tell me? I would've done something before things got this far," I said while wiping her tears.

"I know that you would've. But I-I felt too ashamed to tell the truth. It wasn't normal that he wanted to have sex with me, and I didn't want you to think that something was wrong with me because of that."

"No, baby. Nothing is wrong with you. It's not your fault that he felt that way about you. He's sick and he needs help, but since he's not willing to take responsibility for his mistakes, he's at fault for ruining our lives. He once dedicated his life to protecting you from the heartless people in this world, and now he's one of them. It was never his job to begin with. That's _my_ job."

For what seemed like hours, I remained on that bed holding my daughter until she stopped crying and lifted her head from my shoulder. Hidden behind her eyes rest the remaining fragments that once held promises of love, protection and trust by her father. After enduring the last few hellish months together, it was clear that I remained the one person she could trust.

"Tell me you won't ever leave me, Mama. Please don't go," she pleaded, holding me as if she feared that I would disappear.

_"Nunca, mi corazón._ I will never, ever leave you as long as I'm your mother. When you were born I promised you that no force on earth would stop me from protecting you, even if that meant putting my life on the line. Your father might not have kept that promise, but believe me when I say that I will keep that promise. I promise never to hurt you or leave your side, but I _will_ keep you safe until the end. That is what I'll do."

By that time, Leah was sobbing again as she buried her head in the crook of my neck.

I did not grow emotional until she put her lips to my ear and whispered, "I love you so much, Mommy. Out of the billions of women in this world who could've ended up being my mother, I'm glad that it was you."

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I love you, too, Leah. Always."

With everything now out in the open, we could relax and enjoy the rest of our time together. Unfortunately, that time was running out quickly. I feared that if Troy were to find us, we would be separated from each other forever.

**~WYLS~**

**One Week Later**

Saying goodbye to our temporary home in Pecos was harder than what my daughter and I had anticipated.

The hotel staff were the most compassionate, accommodating people I had ever come to know, and the guests enjoyed our company as much as we enjoyed theirs. It remained the first and most memorable stop on our journey to find a whole new home.

But as much as we loved the city of Pecos in Texas, it was not far enough from New Mexico to meet our expectations. Our old home was just a few hours away, and there was no telling how far Troy had gotten in his search. I knew that he was far from giving up, but what he didn't know was that I wasn't going to give up either. We would keep on the move for as long as he stuck by his efforts.

At one point, I even considered heading further south to my birthplace of Mexico. That option quickly faded, knowing that my family must have been worried sick.

It had been nearly three months since I'd gotten in contact with my parents, who lived a few hundred miles away from Las Cruces. I found it strange that they did not show up on our doorstep after the first month. Surely they must have known that something was wrong, and probably contacted the rest of my relatives in Oaxaca to express their concern for my sudden neglect.

I couldn't call anyway. My cell phone as well as Leah's remained locked away somewhere in the house, so we could only guess how many times they must've called. Before we left the hotel, however, I decided to call my parents to let them know that we were okay. Of course, I wasn't going to tell them the real reason I failed to keep in contact recently.

Using a payphone near the end of the corridor, I took a deep breath before dialing the number to their landline. My mother's voice was heavy and sharp as she answered.

"Hello? Who is this?"

She was angry, and revealing myself would either bring her utter relief or even more outrage. Either way, it was great to hear her voice.

"It's me, Mama... Gabriella."

A long pause. I couldn't tell what it meant. Even if she was standing right in front of me, I would have a difficult time reading her emotions. Once she replied, I knew that it was not good.

She scoffed and said, "What do you want, Gabriella?"

My chest grew heavy at the hurtful reply.

"Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that—"

"What do you want to tell me? Huh? That your life is so much better without us? That you don't need us anymore?"

"What? No, I-I would never say that," I said, fighting to keep my emotions at bay.

"Using your husband as a messenger was the most unforgivable thing you've ever done to us. We are your family. Your father and I gave you _everything_ to make sure that you would have the best life possible, and this is the thanks we get? I thought we raised you better than this!"

"I don't understand what you're talking about. I never sent Troy to..."

I slowly trailed off, and soon realized that my husband must have the initiative to permanently isolate Leah and I from my family. Had they known what a cunning, manipulative man he was, they never would've believed him.

"Wait. When did you come over?" I asked nervously.

"You of all people should know since you were too much of a coward to face us. We were right outside a couple hours ago. It's bad enough that you don't want anything to do with us, but keeping our granddaughter away from us is just heartless. All this time we thought that something was wrong, but Troy was quick to let us know that you decided to cut off all contact with us because you think you're better off without us," my mother spat.

"Mom, that's not true. Don't listen to him. Whatever he told you about me were all lies!"

"And why would he lie about such a thing? Troy is one of the most honest people I've ever known. He would never hide the truth from us!"

I couldn't believe that my mother believed my husband's story more than her own daughter's. She didn't understand that we were suffering at the hands of a ruthless man, who was controlling me at that very moment. Since he couldn't get to me and my daughter directly, he decided to turn my family against me instead.

"Who would you believe, Mama? Someone you've known for a couple years or your own daughter? Don't you get it? He's manipulating all of you. For your information, Leah and I weren't even home for the past week. I would've called but I didn't want you to overreact. Is there anything else you'd like to know? Would you like me to do a polygraph test since you don't seem to trust me?" I retorted sneeringly.

"Don't you catch an attitude with me, Gabriella! _¡Soy tu madre y tú me tratas con respeto!_ And we know that you've been gone for a week. Troy told us that you just packed up, took Leah and his money and left him in the middle of the night. After all he's done for you; after all he's given you—"

"Don't tell me what he's done for me, because he has done _nothing!_ He's done nothing but run our lives and make it a living hell for us, and you're just siding with him because you've always had it out for me!"

As the line fell silent, I realized what I'd said. Now that the truth was out, there was no turning back from that moment.

"What the hell are you talking about, Gabriella? Have I ever hurt you? Have I ever forced you to do anything you didn't want to do?"

My heart was aching at the thought of confessing the resentment I had towards my mother. As much as I loved her with all my heart, a small part of me would never forget the certain events of my childhood in which she was to blame. I never told her because I knew how much pain it would cause her.

"Yes, Mama... You have hurt me. Several times, in fact," I said, mustering the courage to recall the emotions I'd kept bottled up for most of my life.

"Please tell me how I've hurt you."

"No. I'm not going to tell you what you did, because you should know already... Right now I don't think that you're willing to admit the wrong you've done to me, but when you do, don't call back without an apology."

"Fine, then. And until you're ready to apologize to your family, don't call _us_ back," she replied calmly, before the line clicked off.

As I slammed the payphone against its hook, I brushed away my tears in frustration.

Not only had Troy sunken to an all-time low by pitting my family against me, but my mother showed me that they would rather listen to him instead of me. He knew what he was doing, and he was not going to show mercy until I was rendered destroyed. But I was not going down easily; not without a fair fight.

Without hesitation, I shoved another set of coins into the slot and dialed the home number. Leah had no knowledge of the heated phone conversation I had with my mother, so I planned to make the second call brief yet straightforward. Though calling him was going to be risky, I was much too furious to keep my thoughts to myself.

As the line soon opened, it was clear that he had been expecting my call.

"Let me guess: your mother just called to tell you what a sneaky little coward you are?" he began tauntingly.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that? It's bad enough that you're chasing us all over the place, but using my family to get to me is just evil and spiteful. They didn't do anything to you, so don't drag them into this mess. This is between me, you and no one else!"

"I admire your anger Gabi, I really do. But as mad as you are, I don't think you remember what this is really about."

"Aww, are you upset that your two favorite playthings are gone? In your twisted mind, do you_ really_ think that I would bring my daughter back to that hellhole? You're a perverted, sadistic, insecure man and you're going to end up alone if you keep up that asinine habit of yours. You and that bastard coworker of yours. You're both assholes!" I sneered.

The insult hardly affected Troy; at least on the outside. He wasn't going to convince me that every insult I hurled in his direction simply rolled off his back. Somewhere underneath that threatening exterior, he was hurting just as much as I was.

He only sighed and chuckled to himself.

"Is that all you can come up with? That ought to make me curl into a ball and cry tonight," he replied sardonically.

"Listen to me, Troy—"

"No, _you_ listen to me, bitch. For six days straight I've been running around like a fucking idiot with your picture asking people if they've seen you two. I've searched gas stations, bus stations, train stations; even airports for you. So far I've received nothing that would lead me to your location, but when I find you—oh, when I find you—you're going to regret ever stepping foot outside my house."

"Oh, is that right? And what are you going to do_ if_ you find us?"

"Before I tell you what I'm going to do, here's a list of the supplies I've gathered so far. A pair of blindfolds, some duct tape, rope and lots of it, large duffel bags, cement blocks, a tarp... and most importantly, a nice, sharp blade. Am I going to kill you two? Probably not. That would take the fun out of keeping my own slaves. But by the time I'm finished with you, you're going to wish that you were dead. I can guarantee that."

He must have assumed that his threats would leave me trembling with fear, but my reaction was not fear. The more he bragged about his plans, the angrier I became.

"That's not all... If you think that I'm not going to lay a hand on Leah, you're seriously mistaken. I already took your virginity on our wedding night, but now I'm going to have another little virgin to myself. The two of us are going to have hours of fun," he chuckled.

"You're demented! I'm not letting you anywhere near my daughter! Just keep provoking me, Troy. If you so much as look at her the wrong way I'm not going to bother calling the police because I will _kill_ you before they even arrive! I'm not going to allow you to control our lives anymore, because we're sick of being treated like animals. I've heard about people like you: men who abuse their wife and child to compensate for feeling inadequate. We've stroked your fragile ego too many times before. Next time I decide to fall in love with someone, I'm going to make sure that it's a real man... not a coward like you."

At that moment I did not care to listen to him utter another word, and promptly hung up the phone.

It was not until I returned to my room in a huff that I realized that I'd unintentionally revealed our location to Troy by calling. He was possibly going to save the number I used and trace it back to the site of the hotel. But I was not worried, of course. The next state I planned to escape with my daughter was Arizona. As long as we kept our guards up and remained elusive, I was positive that he was never going to find us.

Despite the fearless words I'd spoken to him just a few moments ago, the chilling reveal of his plot to bring us back home was not a threat that I could simply brush off. The thirst for revenge in his voice was evident, leaving me to imagine the wrath we would have to face under his power again. My daughter and I weren't going to stay alive much longer if he dragged us back to that house.

From that day I was determined never to step foot in that house for as long as I lived. It was where we left the best memories behind, but most significantly, the worst.

Sadly, I could not seem to recall our last great memory as a family, and had I known how shattered my life would turn out to be later on, I would've cherished it with all of my heart.

**Chapter 12 will most likely be up a lot faster than this one now that I've settled into the flow of college. I can assure you that it'll be a real nail-biter, and I will keep it intense because I'm just drawn into dramatic storylines (not in real life, of course). But please be patient with me and I'll be back soon. I hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you think of Gabi's fearless rant. I have the best group of supporters! :D**


	12. Worth It

**It's been a while since I updated but I experienced severe writer's block during these past few weeks. I'm back and for those who read I'd like to thank them for their patience as well as their feedback. I hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter 12: Worth It**

**Leah**

Whenever I sensed that my mother was in a bad mood, I never once attempted to point it out.

While I remained in the suite packing up the rest of our belongings, she returned storming into the room and began slamming clothes into her suitcase. I knew not to get in her way when she was angry, nor did I dare try to speak in her intimidating presence.

After zipping the last of her luggage shut, my mother turned towards me and calmly said, "We're going to Arizona. Gather the rest of your things and get in the car."

Without a word, I obediently grabbed my own bags and made a beeline towards the door. Although I did not know exactly why my mother was so upset, it was clear that my father must've had something to do with it. Apparently he had gotten her so angry that she threatened to snap at anything that moved, including me. Of course, I planned to remain silent until she simmered down on her own.

On the way through the exit, the staff wished us a safe trip as we ventured out to continue our journey. My mother only sent them a tight-lipped "goodbye" before guiding me into the parking lot. It was understandable that she now found it easy to say goodbye after leaving the man she once loved the most.

"Quickly, Sweetie. We have a nine hour drive ahead of us, so let's try to make it before midnight," she said.

"Okay, Mami."

She paused to study my neutral features, then briskly circled the car and engulfed me in her arms.

"Don't be scared. Mama just wants what's best for you. You do understand why we have to keep moving, right?"

I shook my head without speaking and murmured, "Mm-hm."

"We are in a very dangerous situation as of now, and if we want to stay together then we have to work together. I know that the role I'm expecting you to take is a big one, but you wouldn't have received it if I wasn't confident that you were mature enough to handle it. You can do this... I know you can," she whispered, cupping my face with her uninjured hand.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll make you proud of me."

Releasing a laugh into the air, my mother planted a kiss at the top of my head.

"You already make me proud."

The way she gazed lovingly at me made me feel special in ways I could not explain in words. No matter how much I thanked her for being such a caring mother, I didn't think that she truly understood how grateful I was to have her.

If it wasn't for her, I never would've had the chance to escape from my father, and we never would've realized the true depth of the love we shared.

With the next destination in our sights, I was convinced that I needed no one else but her.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

Nearly two weeks had passed since my wife and daughter left me, and I was still determined to find them. It turned out that carrying a picture of Leah and Gabriella had worked just like I knew it would. After spending countless days asking complete strangers if they had seen them, I soon found myself in Texas hitting a major road block.

Now that my search for them carried into a whole new state, I did not know where to start. Knowing that they had practically stolen my best car, there was no way that they could've been anywhere near the surrounding train stations or bus stops. However, my wife and daughter certainly must have visited some rest stops in the area. I knew that it would lead me straight to them if I remained persistent in using my method.

As I exited the freeway into the city of Fort Stockton, I quickly screeched to a stop at the first gas station I spotted and walked into the small building. The teenaged female clerk behind the counter sent me a halfhearted greeting without looking up from the cell phone she held in her hands. She did not seem like a very reliable source, so I asked her if there was another employee who could help me.

"Dad!" she called towards a door near the back of the room.

Soon, an older man wearing a blue apron emerged and gazed incredulously at the girl, who was still occupied texting.

"Sierra! What did I tell you about playing on that phone at the front counter? You can't ignore the visitors or we'll lose 'em!" he scolded her gently.

"I said 'hi' to him. I can't really get in trouble since I'm still in training," she replied cleverly.

"It's okay, baby. I'll handle it."

He then turned to me with an apologetic expression on his face and said, "I am terribly sorry about that, sir. Teens will be teens, I guess."

"No problem. I have a thirteen year old of my own and she can be pretty tough to handle at times."

"So, what can I help you with? New to the area?"

"Actually, I am. I live in New Mexico. I came here because I've been spending two weeks looking for my family… Have you seen them?" I questioned while handing him the portrait of Gabriella and Leah.

By the confused gaze the owner took at the picture, it was clear that he had never seen them before.

"I'm afraid I haven't, sir. Sierra, do this woman and child look familiar to you?" he then asked his daughter.

"Not at all. I probably would've seen them come through the door at one point."

"Are they missing?"

"Not really. I'm looking for them because, well, one morning I woke up and they were gone. They left with all of their belongings, took one of our cars and got away with almost $4,000 from my safe. The only way I found out that they weren't coming back was because my wife left me a note saying that they were starting their new lives without me," I fabricated, then added a miserable sigh for effect.

"Was there a reason why they suddenly left? Did you anything wrong that forced them to leave?"

"No, and that's what upsets me the most. My wife and I were the happiest couple on earth. We loved each other so much, and we loved our daughter just as much. She has my eyes, and Gabi's face and her laugh too. It's bad enough that my wife is gone, but now that the second most important person in my life is also never coming back, I don't know what I'll do. When we got married, we both promised that we were never going to leave each other… I guess promises _are _meant to be broken."

The father and daughter sighed in empathy for me, which was the exact reaction I had expected to gain from them. They were eating out of the palm of my hand.

"Ohh, I'm sorry. That's so sad how they left you like that. You must be so heartbroken," Sierra sympathized, seemingly on the verge of tears.

"I am heartbroken. One minute I'm on top of the world feeling like I can do anything, and then in an instant my world is destroyed. I have to… I _need _to find them and apologize for whatever I did so that I can get them back. I'll just die if I can't see them ever again. Please, sir. If you can imagine how terrible it feels to lose everything that you love; your daughter Sierra and your wife, please help me," I pleaded desperately.

The man took another glance at the photo before staring into my heavy eyes. He did not know how to respond, until I turned away and cleared my throat to seem choked up.

"H-hold on, I'll see what I can do. Uh, Violet?"

"Yes, honey?" I heard the voice of a woman respond from the back room.

"Violet, would you come here for a second? It's very important."

Not a moment too soon, the owner's wife appeared carrying a small box in her hands. She immediately walked up to her husband and exchanged a quick peck with him.

"You needed me, Greg?"

"Yes, I did Sweetheart. This here is…" he trailed off, and silently requested my name.

"Troy. My name is Troy. It's nice to meet you."

"Troy is here because he wants to know if we've seen his wife and daughter. Sierra and I haven't, but within the past two weeks, did these two people walk in at any time during your shift?"

As he gave the picture to his wife, Violet gazed long and hard, trying to recall if she had ever seen Gabriella and Leah. I hoped that she would give me the answers I desperately needed.

After a minute of observing the photo, she nodded eagerly.

"Why, yes! They were here one Wednesday. They asked me about nearby hotels before picking up a few snacks. A petite Mexican woman and her teenage daughter, right? They were just beautiful. I never forgot how alike they looked, except the woman had green eyes and the girl's eyes were blue," she said fondly.

"Where did you recommend?"

"The next town over from Fort Stockton called Pecos. You'll have to get back onto the highway but it'll take you right into the town. The woman told me that she and her daughter were on vacation... Did you say that you were looking for them?"

"Yes, I am. For reasons I wasn't even aware of, they just got up and left in the middle of the night. Gabriella wrote a letter to me saying that she was starting a new life with Leah somewhere else. She didn't tell me where they were going, but I don't want to lose them. I have to find them and fix this. It's killing me that they don't know how much I've been suffering without them," I said despondently.

"Well, that's terrible! You seem like a very loving and compassionate person. Why would your wife want to be somewhere else?"

"I don't know. But I can't live without them, especially my angel, Leah. They're all I have. Do you think you can give me directions to Pecos?" I asked gently.

"Of course we will. If you need gas we'll be glad to let you fill your tank free of charge. Anything to reunite you with your family," Violet replied.

This was working much better than I had anticipated. Knowing that I was getting closer to them brought a smile to my face, but it was not the kind of smile those people thought it was. I was so close to showing them the consequences of underestimating me, and I was going to make sure that they would regret escaping from me for the rest of their lives.

However, I was not going to go after them immediately. I planned to sit and wait for them to drop their guards so that I could pounce when the time was right. They weren't going to see me coming.

After listening to the family's instructions on how to get to Pecos, I reminded them what a heartless bitch my wife was. If I could fool her family into thinking that she was careless, I could fool complete strangers just as easily.

"Thank you so much for your help, really. I'd be lost if it wasn't for generous people like you. As much as I don't want to think that she's seeing another man, why else would she leave? I gave her my heart," I embellished once again, which caused the teen girl to coo sympathetically.

"Go ahead, Troy! You find your wife and daughter and you show 'em that they made a big mistake leaving you," Greg said enthusiastically.

_Oh, I'll definitely show them, _my thoughts responded deviously.

"Good luck, Troy. You'll find them in no time."

With one last gracious nod, I headed through the door, pumped my free gas and slowly departed the warm rest stop.

As Sierra, Violet and Greg sent me off with friendly waves, I wondered if they would ever realize that they'd helped me get closer to my goal of capturing Gabriella and Leah. Had they known my true motives for finding them, they would have been so welcoming.

Perhaps the saddest fact of all was that they were too generous for their own good. But as their generosity brought me closer to victory, I really didn't mind at all.

**~WYLS~**

**August**

**Gabriella**

In the time it took my daughter and me to adjust to travelling, we had quickly fallen in love with Arizona. Although our goal was to keep moving to evade my husband, we found it much too difficult to leave the small city of Sedona.

It was a tight-knit region that upheld its traditions as well as the people who lived there. The area had a very welcoming Mexican-American community, and included its own market, shops and restaurants that brought back cherished memories of my childhood in Oaxaca. The residents were hard workers whose pride for their heritage kept them driven to make a better life for themselves and their families. Despite some who continued to misjudge them, they didn't take anything from anybody.

Naturally, I settled there knowing that I had found the perfect home for my daughter.

After a week of staying at a hotel in the main part of town, we both made the sudden decision to rent an apartment in Sedona. It was a small yet cozy studio, complete with one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen. Most of the $4,000 had been used on food and gas over the past few weeks, as well as the down payment on the studio. The place did not come furnished, and we could only afford a few luxuries like an air mattress and a small television, but most importantly, heat and central air, running water and electricity. It was simple living, but we were happy.

By the time our money was just about used up, I quickly found a job waitressing at a nearby restaurant. The income I brought home wasn't nearly as much as the tips I received while serving tables, and it was enough to keep ahead of the bills. Now that I was fully caring for my daughter by myself, I gained a whole new appreciation for single mothers. It definitely wasn't easy tackling difficult situations without help from my husband. But for Leah's sake, I was determined to be a better mother than I was before.

Of course, there were times when I wished that I had an extra pair of arms to comfort my daughter whenever she was upset.

"Dinner is ready, Sweetie," I reminded Leah one evening as I stepped into the bedroom.

She was lying on the mattress when I found her, and at first I assumed that she was only taking a nap. That was, until her shoulders began to tremble.

"Leah? Are you okay?"

When I did not receive a response, I moved closer to her and brushed the hair out of her eyes. It broke my heart to see her in tears. Without a word, my daughter turned over and rest her head against my chest. She was not ready to speak yet, so I let her cry until she felt comfortable enough.

"Why do I miss him? He's been nothing but horrible to us and all I can think about is seeing him again," she finally said.

"It's not a bad thing that you miss him. He's your father and you still love him, right?"

"Of course I do."

"And it's not like he's always treated us badly. We know that he loves us, and he also knows it. It didn't really seem like he cared over the past few months but he does," I said.

For a moment, a nostalgic grin crept onto her lips as she wrapped her arms around me.

"Remember that time when I was six and I wanted to do the school talent show?"

"Yeah. You wanted to show everyone what you were learning in Miss Angie's class. We got you a little pink dress and tied your hair in pigtails. You looked so adorable prancing around the stage."

"Daddy was standing right in the middle of the aisle with that oversized video camera on his shoulder, and the other parents were looking at him like he was crazy. At first I was a little embarrassed but he made me laugh during the rest of the dance. Before I went onstage he kissed me and said, 'Go out there and shake it. But not too much or I'll have to threaten some of those boys watching,'" Leah giggled.

"Do you remember the vacation we took to Disney World in Florida?"

"Yeah. I had never seen him so frightened before. Even though I was ten he held my hand like I was a toddler. I remember telling him, 'Daddy, you're crushing my hand,' because his grip was so tight."

"Trust me, if you were two years younger he would've stuffed you into a stroller," I laughed.

"I get that he didn't want to lose me in the crowd. I didn't want to get lost either. We had so much fun on that trip. I never wanted it to end."

"Me neither. One time when you were a baby, we had to admit you to the hospital because you had the flu. Your father cried all night because he thought that you weren't going to make it. I mean, I cried too, but he was just a mess. He wouldn't eat or sleep until he knew that you were going to be okay. I've never met someone who is dedicated as Troy..."

Suddenly, Leah broke into sobs once again, clearly heartbroken that she now had to live without her father. Even though I wanted to be strong for her, the reality that Troy was never going to be the same again quickly roused my emotions.

Soon we were both crying as the touching memories from our past came flooding back. After the hell we had endured together, those numerous dance recitals and summer trips seemed like nothing but a dream.

"What did we do wrong, Mama? Why did he hurt us?" she asked me tearfully.

"We didn't do anything wrong, baby. He just lost his way and abusing drugs was his way of coping. I don't know why he thought that it was going to help him, because look at where we are. Perhaps he knows that he's hurt us and he doesn't know how to fix his addiction. But he never meant to hurt us, and he loves us. I know that much."

"Well if he loves us so much, why does he treat us this way? I want my Daddy back. My real dad!"

At that point I could only hold my daughter and whisper soothing words to her until she fell asleep.

Starting a new life without Troy was going to be very difficult, and it was obvious that he missed us just as much as we missed him. He was upset that our relationship had amounted to what it was. The problem was that he couldn't seem to ignore his desire for drugs and alcohol, which was preventing him from truly realizing that he needed to get help for his addiction.

Hopefully, he would put the pieces together before he did something desperate.

**~WYLS~**

**The Next Day**

To celebrate the removal of my cast, I decided to take Leah to a Latin fair in rural Sedona. With my wrist now fully healed, I was able to enjoy the rides with her as well as play those fun prize games.

She was eager to learn about her Mexican heritage and the culture she hardly knew about. I let her eat the delicious foods I had growing up, taught her the dances my own mother once taught me, and showed her countless other reasons why I was proud to be Mexican.

As we ventured out to seek other food stands, we took our time strolling while carrying the prizes we'd collected earlier in the day.

School was going to be starting soon, and I had yet to make a decision about enrolling Leah in the middle school near our apartment. She was extremely nervous to attend in which she knew none of the children. Her classmates that she knew since preschool were back in New Mexico. Las Cruces was the only place she loved growing up, and she now was going to have to adjust to people whom she never met before.

This was a new and frightening experience for both of us.

"What if the kids don't like me because I'm not from here? I'll cry if they make fun of me," she said apprehensively.

"Just be yourself. Then they'll definitely like you. Not everyone will be as welcoming, but don't let that ruin your attitude, okay? And if you need help finding classes or figuring out your schedule, don't be afraid to ask for help. It's a lot better than getting frustrated trying to do things on your own."

"That's just it... I don't know who I am yet."

"You're a teenage girl. It's going to be years until you find your true place in life. But until then, just do what makes you happy and you'll figure it out eventually," I reassured my daughter.

"I hope I do soon. Being awkward isn't the best feeling in the world. As soon as I'm in front of people, I seem to get two left feet," she said, causing me to laugh aloud.

"Oh, Sweetie. That's just the beginning. But I can already see that you're turning out to be the beautiful, mature young lady I always knew you'd become. I'm very proud of you, you know that?"

Attempting to hide the deep red blush that was developing on her cheeks, Leah hid her face in the crook of my neck and shook her head.

"Yes, Mama, I know. I'm your little baby girl, right?"

"Yes, you are," I giggled before planting a kiss against her lips.

Hoping to fit as much activities into our day as possible, my daughter and I continued exploring different venues and attractions until dusk caught up to us. It was great spending the day with Leah and having more fun than we did in a long time.

While most families were leaving the fair, we chose to stay behind and enjoy the Tejano concert that was scheduled to play throughout the evening. While the seats closest to the stage were taken, my daughter and I watched from a nearby picnic area.

Seeing Leah happy brought nothing but joy to my heart. That was when I knew that taking her away from her father was worth the effort.

"Today was so fun. I wish that the fair would stay here longer. It's too bad we didn't realize it was here until the last day," she sighed.

"Don't worry. September 16th is Mexican Independence Day, and we'll spend at least the whole week celebrating."

"If I'm in school by then, do you think they'll let me dress up for the occasion?"

"I should think so. You're going to see a lot of Mexicano kids showcasing their pride. It's going to be an explosion of red, white and green," I replied with a smile.

As I glanced ahead at the show once more, an ominous feeling suddenly overwhelmed my senses. It was the same sensation I experienced whenever I sensed that something bad was going to happen, and because my intuition never failed me before, it was going to happen that very night.

Soon I seemed to feel a threatening presence that would only appear when my husband was near. Like a metal being drawn to a magnet, my head automatically turned to the side and led me to discover my greatest fears. The sight was unmistakable.

In the distance was a tall white man with short brown hair, leaning against a food truck and calmly smoking a cigarette. Suddenly my mind went elsewhere. My palms grew cold and sweaty while I found it difficult to breathe. It couldn't be him. I became frozen like a deer in headlights as his piercing blue eyes locked against my gaze.

It did not register that we had to escape until he tossed the cigarette to the grass and started to approach.

"Mom, you okay?" Leah asked me.

Without a word, I grabbed her hand and hauled my daughter to her feet. Before she could question my seemingly strange actions I hastily guided her towards the exit, leaving our prizes behind at the table.

"Mama, what's wrong?"

"He's here! We have to get out of here now!" I said almost in a panic.

As if she didn't believe me, Leah glanced back and gasped when she spotted him marching through the crowd.

"How did he find us?"

"I don't know and I'm not going to find out. Come on, let's get to the car!"

Once we found the parking lot, my daughter and I frantically searched the area for our car. We quickly found it and piled in. When I dared to look back again, I saw that Troy was still a few yards away from us. Perhaps we were going to escape once again.

Hoping to make it home without giving away our route, I mashed the accelerator with my foot and screeched down the road. While Leah was suffering a meltdown in the backseat, I was growing distressed myself.

"Shit, this is bad," I murmured to myself as I gripped the wheel.

"He saw us! What are we going to do? What if he finds out where we live? I don't want to be here anymore!" my daughter cried hysterically.

"It's okay, Leah. We lost him. He's all the way back there and he won't find us. Don't cry, baby."

"He _is _going to find us! It was fine when he was thousands of miles away in a different state, but now he's in the same town as us. He'll search every house in Sedona if he has to."

Her claim wasn't very far from the truth. Now that Troy knew our location, he was going to use the hundreds of hours he spent looking for us and make sure that he wasn't going to lose us again. Although I didn't know how he would find us after we got away, I had made the mistake of underestimating Troy before.

If he caught us, I was never going to doubt him for as long as I lived.

In what usually took me an hour, I'd gotten my daughter home in half that time. I made sure to park behind the building just in case. Once we scrambled through the darkness into the house and bolted the door shut, I held Leah close while we sunk to the floor in relief.

"That was too close, Mama. I've never been so scared in my life," she panted.

"Me neither. Are you okay, Sweetie?"

"No... He wasn't supposed to find us."

As she began to sob quietly, I could only hold her in my arms to remind her that she was safe. We soon retreated to the mattress, turned the lights out and sat in the darkness. The time was approaching midnight but we were far from tired. It was important for us to stay vigilant knowing that we were in danger.

Eventually, one hour passed, two hours passed; three hours passed without any sign of my husband. While Leah slept on my breast, I lie awake staring at the ceiling for what seemed like forever.

Whenever I felt that exhaustion was creeping up on me, I sang to myself and counted to keep alert. I glanced over at the clock only to discover that it was 4:00 in the morning. As we were progressing closer to daylight, my eyes were growing increasingly heavy.

For the next few minutes I fought to remain conscious, and found myself nodding off over and over again. Before I realized that darkness was rapidly consuming me, it was too late to fight it any longer.

**Hopefully I can get the next chapter out even quicker because I don't want to leave you hanging. Please review and let me know what you think is going to happen in the next chapter. Thank you!**


	13. Sacrifices

**I told you that I'd update quicker. Sometimes I just jump into a new chapter when I suddenly get a brilliant idea, while other times it's difficult for me to get an idea for days. Anyway please enjoy because you're in for a huge shock! Enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 13: Sacrifices**

**Gabriella**

For the eighth time that morning, the chill that was whistling through the window caused me to wake up shivering once again.

The more my tolerance for the cold grew thinner with each passing hour, the more I became compelled to get up and grab a blanket from the closet. Leah also reminded me that she was also cold as she occasionally trembled in her sleep. Before, I did not want to wake her by moving, but I had reached my breaking point.

Giving in to my distress, I finally opened my eyes and prepared to guide Leah aside before I could sit up.

But soon, I realized that she wasn't in my arms.

Quickly, I sat up completely and frantically searched the room.

"Leah? Where are you, _Nena?"_ I questioned aloud, hoping to receive an answer.

That was when I spotted a stream of light surrounding the bathroom door, before I heard the flush of the toilet. I released a sigh of relief, glad that it was nothing more than my imagination running wild.

_Don't lose it now, Gabi. She was just using the bathroom. She's fine,_ my thoughts gently reassured.

I glanced out the window while getting to my feet. It was now 5:00 in the morning and the sky was beginning to fade from its pitch black hue to a light indigo shade. We were going to make it to daylight.

After retrieving a blanket from the closet, I returned to the mattress with a yawn and said, "Come back to bed, baby."

As I lay across the mattress, I wondered why Leah had not yet returned from the bathroom. My poor daughter. For her, recovering from even a fever took longer than most people. Soon enough, the door squeaked open once the lights were shut off.

Suddenly my blood ran cold as a leg, one that certainly did not belong to my daughter, stretched across the threshold. It seemed as though I had been thrust into a nightmare.

I refused to believe that the man standing right in front of me was real, and I squeezed my eyes shut to rid my mind of the menacing figure. But as many times as I blinked and shook my head, he just would not disappear. He'd found us.

"What are you doing here? Get out!" I shouted nervously.

"Ouch. Is that the proper way to greet your husband? I think I deserve better than that."

As he stepped closer, I began to shrink against the wall, when I remembered that my daughter was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Leah? Where is she?"

"I thought you'd never ask. You see, she is what I call 'bait', because as soon as I put her on the hook, you always come biting. Wherever she goes, you follow," he said, grinning smugly.

I was not about to play games with Troy, and I surged to my feet looking for answers.

"What the hell did you do to her? Tell me where she is now!" I demanded, while daringly thrusting my finger into his chest.

Unaffected by my anger, he merely laughed in my face. If he had done anything to harm my daughter, I was going to make sure that he suffered for the rest of his life.

"If you don't tell me where she is, I'll call the police!"

Without the slightest ounce of concern, Troy casually shrugged his shoulders as if to give me his consent to call 911. That only meant that something wasn't right. A closer look revealed that he had deliberately cut off our only means of communication with the rest of the world.

"What do you take me for, Gabi? I'm a quick, calculating, clever machine. You should've seen it coming," he chuckled.

At that moment, I just about had it with my husband's sick mind games. He knew that I was on the verge of an outburst as I stormed up to him, ready to fight if it meant finding out my daughter's whereabouts.

"This isn't funny, Troy! Where is she?!"

No response.

_"Tell me!"_ I screamed.

The more he remained silent, the angrier I became. Blind with fury, I raised my fist in the air and swung for his face. Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough, and Troy soon caught my wrist and gave it a hard twist.

"I broke your wrist before and I can do it again. Remember who you're talking to," he said threateningly.

By the time he released my arm, I just wanted to know where she was.

"Please, Troy. I just need to know... I need to see my baby and know that she's okay."

"Right about now she's lying in a duffel bag in the trunk of my car..."

"Oh, my God! What?!" I gasped.

My legs suddenly fell weak, causing me to collapse against the mattress; and my chest grew heavy as my breaths escaped in heartbroken sobs. Just when I thought that I'd lost everything that meant to me, this news made it official.

On the other hand, I knew not to believe him. He could have been using this story to break me down. I wasn't going to listen until I saw for myself.

"Do you wanna see her? Don't worry. You'll be joining her in a moment," he said darkly.

In the corner of my eye, I realized that the front door had been left wide open. If I calculated my plan well enough, I could escape and get to Leah. Knowing that it could get me killed only motivated me to run as fast as I could.

While Troy was occupied bragging about himself, I slowly moved closer to the door and waited for him to glance out the window again. I would only have one chance, so I had to do this right. Once his head swiveled around, I sprung from the mattress and headed straight for the door.

Behind my back I could hear him charging after me, through the corridor and down the stairs.

_"Gabriella!"_ he bellowed after me as the gap between us became larger and larger.

The chase continued down at least six flights of stairs, and past numerous doors. It was just my luck that the only tenants who also lived in that building always left for work an hour earlier. They certainly would've stopped him if they were still there.

As I finally leapt onto the ground floor, a stunned laugh emerged from my lips once I realized that I was going to get away. I surged even closer and extended my arm to reach the door handle.

Then, from what seemed like out of nowhere, the side of a blunt object came swinging towards my face before the most excruciating pain erupted in the crown of my head. The room suddenly became blurred and I could not perceive much except for the towering shadow above me, followed by the chill of cold steel prodding into my spine.

As my ears filled with the sound of distorted chuckles, the last thing I saw was a black cloth looming above my head.

**~WYLS~**

Before I could assume that Troy had killed me, I found myself regaining consciousness several times.

From there I put the pieces together once I felt my body being dragged through the back door. Soon I felt my wrists and ankles being bound by rope, then as I tried to speak, I realized that he'd gagged me with a piece of cloth so that I wouldn't make a sound. Lastly, as I was carelessly tossed into the trunk, he tied a blindfold around my eyes and zipped up the bag around me.

During that time, I could only cry as I accepted that I'd lost. After months of running, I came to realize that it was my fault for putting Leah in danger. She never deserved to suffer at the hands of her father, and I regretted not calling the police before we left. Before, I was letting Troy get away with abusing drugs and us, but now that I knew what a heartless man he was I would never forgive him for making our lives miserable. For hurting my daughter, I vowed that I would get my revenge against him.

He was not as clever as he thought. I soon discovered that by using my fingernail, I could open the bag from the inside out. However, I made sure that he could not hear the noise of the zipper. As the SUV jerked onto the road, I covered my head to avoid the heavy objects shifting around me.

I began going to work on the zipper, when something that felt like a limb brushed against me. Gingerly, I felt my way around the trunk and almost cried out in terror once I realized that it was my daughter. She was not moving, nor did she make a sound. Still, I needed to know if she was alive.

I only became compelled to maneuver my hands out of the bag I was lying in to get to the zipper of her bag. Amidst my efforts, I fought back tears of sorrow and looked forward to shedding tears of relief once I'd made my discovery.

Within seconds I was able to tug my own bag open before reaching for the zipper to Leah's bag. For a moment, I grew slightly hesitant, fearing that my daughter was really dead. But my intuition never failed me before, and I was not about to have my doubts.

As I took in a deep breath, I grasped her limp hand and squeezed it in hopes of receiving a response. If my wrists weren't bound together, I could have easily checked for a pulse. However, I couldn't tell by holding her hand. A few minutes passed without any movement, which eventually made me very nervous.

Tears were starting to well up in my eyes as I began to lose hope. I couldn't lose my daughter. She meant nothing but the world to me, and if she was gone I wouldn't know how to move on with my life. Had my greatest fear turned out to be true, I would've opened the trunk and tossed myself onto the moving blacktop to end it all. Living without her was not an option for me. I just wanted to be with her wherever all departed mothers and daughters reunited.

Just when I had convinced myself that my daughter was never going to wake up, her fingers slowly wrapped around mine and gave it a weak squeeze.

Leah would never know what a relief it was for me to discover that she was alive. If only she knew how badly I wanted to kiss her and hug her; how much I wanted to tell her that I loved her over and over. Unfortunately, because we were both restrained, we could only keep our fingers tightly intertwined. I did not care as long as she was okay.

Though unable to see or speak to each other, my daughter and I never lessened our grip on each other for the duration of the seemingly endless trip. It was important that we remained close for as long as possible, because there was no telling what Troy was going to do to us once we'd reached our destination.

Hopefully, it would not be the final stop for the two of us.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

While I continued my nearly ten hour journey back to New Mexico, I could not seem to wipe the smug grin off of my face. Once again, everything had worked out in my favor, and I could show my wife and daughter that I truly reigned supreme.

After I'd left from the rest stop with directions to Pecos, finding Gabriella and Leah was much too easy. Once I found the hotel where they stayed, I asked the desk clerks if they knew where the two were headed. The answer led me straight to Arizona.

While they assumed that I'd simply lost my way trying to find them, I watched them for weeks as they settled into their temporary home. I was there when they purchased the apartment; when Gabriella earned her job as a waitress. Like fools they slept peacefully at night thinking that they were safe, but I was much closer than they thought.

I knew that I had my chance to capture them once they left the house in search of a fun-filled day. Little did they know that their day was going to take a turn for the worst, and it was just what I intended to happen.

At the first sight of me, they ran to the safety of their—my—car and disappeared into the night. It was too bad that they did not know that I already knew where they lived. I did not plan to chase after them immediately. Instead I made them think that they were safe inside their home.

Determined to catch the pair when they least expected it, I crept up to the building at 4:30 in the morning. Despite efforts to keep awake for Leah, poor Gabriella had also succumbed to her own weakness, making things for me much easier. Picking their door locks was out of the question since I couldn't get through several bolts without taking a chainsaw to them.

At the back of the complex was an emergency staircase that scaled the entire building, and led straight to the windows on the opposite side of every apartment. Equipped with the right tools for my job, I easily pried the window open and carefully stepped into their bathroom. Of course I first planned to kidnap Leah knowing that Gabriella was at her most vulnerable when her daughter was in danger. I looked forward to watching her plead for me to give her back like the coward she was.

As I reached for the girl, she woke with a start and opened her mouth to scream. She immediately fell silent once I held a blade near her throat, and threatened to kill her if she made a sound. I quickly forced her towards the bathroom which, for reasons I could not understand, caused her to burst into tears.

"Don't rape me, please," she whimpered.

"I'm not going to rape you, baby… At least not yet. All Daddy wants you to do is to climb down the emergency ladder with him," I gently reassured my daughter.

To make sure that she wouldn't try to escape, I grabbed hold of her hand and led her from the sixth floor all the way to the bottom of the building. Leah shivered in the chill of the night before I pinned her against the asphalt. She put up no fight as I began to tie her wrists and ankles together and wrap tape around her mouth.

Before placing the blindfold over her eyes, I wiped away the single tear from her cheek and said, "Don't be scared, Angel. I just want to take you home and give you the best that I can offer."

Eventually I guided her into the large duffel bag and zipped it shut. The solid thud of her head hitting the ground was unmistakable, as she had passed out in distress. After making sure that my daughter was well concealed in the trunk, I returned to the building and soon caught Gabriella.

The woman always found a way to make things complicated for me. Running after her was worth the effort since I'd convinced her that Leah was dead. My fabrication ultimately broke her down.

With my two victims apprehended, I hit the road before daylight and headed straight for home. During the long drive, I decided to give them a synopsis of the lesson I was going to teach them once we were indoors.

"You two think you're so slick, don't you? I mean, running away was insulting enough, but taking my car _and_ my money? That just felt like a slap in the face. Did you not think that I was going to find you?"

From the trunk, the only response I received was several muffled sobs.

"Are you proud of what you did, Gabi? Look at this mess you created. If only you hadn't run away with Leah, I wouldn't have to treat you like this. It's okay, though. That's only going to make punishing you a lot more fun for me. Damn, I can't wait to get you two home," I chuckled.

The few hours quickly passed without a hitch, and I was confident that I would make it back to New Mexico scot-free. However, during the fifth hour at 10:30 a.m., I spotted a police cruiser following me. Soon the sirens began to blare, meaning that I'd been ordered to pull over.

Once the officer began to approach my car, I turned towards the trunk at Gabriella and Leah before hissing, "Stay still or you're dead!"

I remained collected as I rolled down my window to address the woman.

"Good morning, Ma'am? Was I going too fast?" I guessed politely.

"Actually, you were speeding. I caught you on my speedometer back there and you were going way past the speed limit; nearly ninety miles an hour, in fact. Care to explain why you were driving so fast?"

This wasn't going to be a problem for me at all. If anything, I was going to get away as long as my wife and daughter didn't blow my cover.

"Oh, I was just heading back to New Mexico from my brother's birthday. You see, it was his 40th birthday and his wife and kids threw this huge surprise party for him. I meant to spend at least a day or two in Tucson but ended up staying until last night. The problem is that I have to make it to the Presbyterian hospital in Albuquerque because my wife is in labor. At first I wasn't even planning on leaving for the party, but she insisted because we thought that the baby was going to make it until the due date," I explained convincingly.

"What are you having?"

"A baby girl… I can't wait to meet her and find out if she has my eyes."

"I understand that you may not make it back before your daughter arrives, but a violation like this can't be ignored. Unfortunately, sir, I'm going to have to give you a ticket for speeding. May I see your license and registration?" she requested.

Obediently, I showed her my identification. Instead of protesting I did as she told me because I knew that the more I cooperated, the faster she would let me go.

"All right, Mr. Bolton. You're free to go. Keep in mind that you must be safe while travelling, okay? I'm sure that the baby wants her father in one piece," the officer advised with a warm smile.

"I will, Ma'am. Take care."

After I accepted the ticket, she began to head back to her car when something caught her eye. I froze in my seat once she returned to my window.

"You sure packed a lot for just one weekend. Two duffel bags and three suitcases! If I wasn't mistaken, I would say that you were in Arizona for months," she said.

Before she could attempt to take another look, I frantically reminded her that I was in a hurry.

"Well, let's just say that we won't have to buy baby clothes for an entire year… So, do you think that four hours gives me enough time to make it before my wife becomes fully dilated? She was seven centimeters when I left this morning," I replied casually.

Remarkably, the officer did not suspect that I had changed the subject for any other reason than my wife being in "labor."

"Oh, my! I won't keep you any longer if she's that close. Go ahead, sir. Have a great day and good luck making it there!" the woman wished cheerfully, before turning to head back to her cruiser.

Just then, a faint thumping sound started to echo from the trunk, which quickly led me to the conclusion that someone was trying to catch the officer's attention.

I wasted no time starting the car to block out the sound, then stuck my head out the window and yelled, "Thank you!"

By the time I made it to the next exit, I was ready to punish whoever was trying to expose me. Just a few miles over the boarder of New Mexico, I jerked to a stop in the secluded parking lot of a ranch and stormed around the car. Whimpers of terror came from the bags as I zipped them open.

"Who made the noise back there? I want to know now!" I demanded.

Tearing the blindfolds from their eyes, I searched each pair for the truth. The culprit was easy to spot. Tears soon began to well up in Gabriella's eyes, which quickly gave way to sobs. She gasped once I clamped my palm around her neck and held the blade against it.

"You are_ this_ close from making me slash your throat and dumping you in a creek somewhere. I make the decisions in this family, and when I tell you to stay still I mean it! You're going to get punished twice as hard as your daughter, so keep pushing me!"

Before I thought that someone had spotted me, I slammed Gabriella against the floor of the trunk, sealed the bag once again and sped towards home. I was furious that they weren't taking me seriously. They seemed to think that undermining my authority and playing games was going to ruin me, but they were gravely mistaken.

Once I took them home and showed them the consequences of disrespecting me, I was sure that they would never do it again.

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

Though my mother and I had survived the hellish journey from Sedona to Las Cruces, we did not know if we would live to see another day once my father had us behind closed doors.

We'd missed our last chance of getting rescued by the police when he received a ticket for speeding. Of course the plan backfired, and my mother was harshly reprimanded for it. During the last four hours of the drive, we held onto each other as tightly as we could through the duffel bags we rest in. Since we could then see, we communicated with our eyes knowing that no words were needed for us to express our feelings.

"We're home," came the dreaded announcement as my father reversed into the garage.

After making sure that the automatic door was properly shut, he hauled open the trunk and promptly freed us. We both cried out in pain as he deliberately peeled the duct tape from our lips. Then, in one of the most menacing tones I had ever heard, he leaned close to us and gave the chilling command.

"Get in the house now."

Uncertain of our fates, my mother and I hesitated in front of the threshold fearing the worst. My father wasn't about to wait for us, and forced us through the door.

"Come on! Move your asses!" he snapped.

Hoping not to be separated from my mother, I kept my arms around her waist while she silently worked to comfort me.

We came to find that the house was almost the exact same way as it was when we had left. Except we couldn't help but sense that something had changed, and we soon found out that we'd guessed correctly.

Snaking an arm around us, he guided us further into the living room and extended his other arm as if to present the place to us.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked, expecting us to comment on a room that did not seem to undergo any significant change.

We didn't want to make him think that we perceived him as insane, but we saw nothing worth noticing. It didn't matter to him as long as we gave him the answer he wanted.

"It's, um…"

"It's what?"

"I-it's… different?" my mother guessed nervously.

"That's right, Gabi. Good job! While you two were gone I did some major renovating around here. On the outside of every door in this house are several locks and bolts that can only be accessed by me. That way I can lock both of you in the house so that you can never escape again. It's a good thing I picked construction as my college minor. About a month ago these walls weren't even here. I added soundproofing so that no one outside can hear your screams. The window shutters are sealed shut, if you look closely. I also took out every door inside the house except for the one leading to the basement and my den, to keep an eye on you every second of the day… That includes when you get dressed and take a shower. Any tool that I think can help you in any way has been locked away,_ especially_ the computers and phones. All this to make sure that our happy little family stays together."

My mother and I cringed in anxiety as he took a few pills from his pocket and swallowed them in one gulp. The side effects of the drugs would not kick in for a while, but he was ready to start tormenting us.

"Now, onto the good stuff," he chuckled.

Without warning, my father blindsided us with a powerful shove that sent us crashing to the floor. As he towered over my mother and me, we shrunk against the wall and held each other.

"Do you have any idea what you two put me through? Do you know how know many weeks I spent running around like a fool asking people if they've seen you? I can't even count the days I spent getting lost and driving that piece of shit car all over the state…"

"Troy, please—"

"And that's not even the worst of it. Like the little snakes you are, you stole from my safe and my good car, and ran while I was incapacitated. You're petrified of me when I'm awake, but the minute I'm down you take advantage of me? Do you like betraying me?!"

"N-no, of course not. We would never," my mother stammered.

"Save it, Gabi! I've had it with your lame excuses! It's about time you two start obeying me."

In an effort to protect herself, my mother shielded her head to block the oncoming blows as he grabbed her from the floor. After that, she was defenseless against his fury.

I could do nothing but watch in horror while my father beat her harder than ever before. Each unrelenting blow he delivered tore into her body with the swiftness of a speeding bullet. His precision was on point as he matched her every movement, and it was not long until she had been reduced to a bleeding heap. But he was far from over. I was next.

He soon approached me and dragged me across the floor by my curls, making me scream in agony. My father immediately pinned me beneath himself and hurled his fists down on my head. The first few punches rendered me disoriented, but to him that was just taking it easy. I did not start begging for mercy until he began to kick at me from what felt like every angle. He kicked me in my stomach, my back, my chest; and last but not least, my head. The constant thrashing eventually caused my vision to blur and the room to spin.

Somewhere above the sound of the punches I heard my mother screeching at him to stop. Moments later the punishment ceased and a struggle ensued. Turning my head towards the commotion, I spotted my mother trying to contend with my father.

Things took a turn for the worst once he wrapped his hands around her neck and held a strong grip. He was choking her, and she was fading quickly. Panicked wheezes began sputtering out of her throat while she fought for the smallest amount of air.

"Daddy, stop! You're going to kill her!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"Please, Daddy! Don't take her away from me!" I cried, fearing that my mother was not going to survive another minute.

As she grew weaker and her eyes threatened to roll into the back of her head, I knew what I had to do. Despite the risk I was planning to take, it was the only way to stop my father from causing more damage.

Without hesitation, I hastily removed my outer layer of clothing until I was left standing in my undergarments.

"Take me instead!" I screamed desperately.

Before my mother almost lost consciousness, he glanced in my directions and paused in his actions. He instantly released her, letting her limp body fall to his feet. Too exhausted to move, my mother remained on the floor coughing and gasping for air.

"What did you say?"

"Take me instead... Do whatever you want to me. Just don't hurt my mommy anymore," I sobbed.

A sly grin crept onto his face, which undoubtedly made me sick to my stomach.

Although I had no regrets about saving my mother, I regretted my choice in trying to stop him. I was about to let my father rob me of my innocence. It was the ultimate sacrifice.

"Finally," he chuckled.

Eager to take my virginity for himself, he took me by the hand and began guiding me towards the staircase.

"No… please don't," a weak voice spoke from the living room.

Using all the strength she could muster, my mother hobbled to her feet and shook her head.

"Don't do this, Leah. I don't want you to be damaged for the rest of your life because of me. I love you too much to watch you give up something that's so precious to you."

"But I don't want to lose you, Mama. What was I supposed to do, sit back and watch you die? I love _you _too much to spend my life without you. I had to do something," I replied.

"Let me go with you instead of her, Troy. Please. This is your daughter, and she can get seriously hurt. I don't care if you take advantage of me. Just don't take advantage of her," my mother pleaded.

"Hmm, no. I'm going to take this cutie upstairs and give her a well-deserved lesson in sex. She's going to learn all that she needs to know from her Daddy."

"Troy, please don't make me beg. I… I'll do anything you want me to do; _anything _just as long as you don't touch her."

For a moment, we waited in angst as my father fell into a state of deep contemplation.

"Actually, I have more than one option. I can either take you, Leah, or better yet… both of you," he declared menacingly.

The room grew silent once again, and soon enough time seemed to come to a complete standstill. He gazed into our pleading eyes before sighing in deliberation.

"Then again I can make an exception this time, that is if..."

"If what?" my mother asked nervously.

He then pointed at me and said, "If Leah watches."

"Wh-what?"

"You don't want me to lay a finger on her, right? I make the decisions around here, and when I tell you to do something, you listen to me."

"But, Troy, that's not fair," my mother argued softly.

"Do you want me to take Leah and make you watch instead?"

Defeated, she self-consciously glanced at the floor before shaking her head.

"No."

"Good."

As my father led us towards his bedroom, I could only look forward in dread knowing that things were about to get worse. Before that day, I did not think that there was anything more that he could do to break us down. Unfortunately, that was also before I realized that we'd made a terrible mistake underestimating him.

Sacrificing herself to protect me was something that I would be forever grateful for. That only proved that our love ran deeper than the most abysmal ocean.

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Depends on the amount of work I'm given, so I'll try to work around that. Thanks for reading! **


	14. Careless

**So, I thought long and hard about the proper responses to some of the feedback I received, but I decided that I'm just going to address the readers who actually left positive****responses: Thank you for your patience and I appreciate your willingness to finish my story as well as understanding that I**_** do**_** know what I'm doing. For those who still would like to read, please enjoy.**

**Chapter 14: Careless**

**Gabriella**

There were absolutely no words that could describe the shame and humiliation I felt as Troy assaulted me in front of our daughter. While he did just about whatever he wanted to me, she reluctantly looked on in tears. If she even tried to glance in the other direction, he'd warn her that she was next if she kept looking away.

I could do nothing but endure the torture and obey his every command no matter how gross or degrading. Unfortunately, I could_ only_ wish that things were going to get better.

For days I couldn't look my daughter in the eye, and neither could she. At night I would listen to her cry for hours until she fell asleep. The incident had both left us traumatized.

From then on, life at home had reached an all-time low as Troy's punishments grew much more extreme and damaging. Besides abusing us physically, he also targeted our self-esteems. On some days, he would smash our faces against a mirror on the wall and tell us how repulsive we were. He would tell us that we were worthless and stupid. After a while, even I started to believe it.

His demented games never seemed to cease. Whenever Leah decided to take a shower, he'd stand in the doorway waiting for her to come out. My daughter would become so petrified that she'd end up hiding behind the shower curtain for hours, until her father gave up and left.

Eventually, his punishments went from abusive to plain cruel. Whenever he felt too exhausted to beat any of us, he simply locked us in the basement for the night, and we would remain shivering on the stairs until he returned in the morning.

He once starved us for an entire week while he was away at his parent's for Thanksgiving. I imagined that my family could have cared less since I still failed to call after all those months, and apologize. I couldn't call even if I tried. Troy had cut off all means of communication in the house and locked them away. If only they knew that we were being held hostage in our own home.

That was our new life, until Troy eventually grew bored with us and decided to put an end to our misery.

One morning as I was slaving away cleaning the bathroom, I paused in my tracks once Troy stepped in and stood in the corner. He remained there for a moment observing me in silence, which eventually caused me to grow annoyed.

"How are you, Gabi?" he suddenly inquired.

I rolled my eyes and continued to scrub the floor without replying.

"Watch anything good on TV lately? Any movies at all?"

He was not going to get an answer out of me no matter how hard he pressed. According to my husband, Leah and I did not deserve to be rewarded with the luxury of entertainment.

"Criminal Minds is pretty good. And that House is so damn hilarious! Did you watch the episode last week? Oh, wait, you can't. All of those long words might give you a headache. Try using a dictionary," he taunted.

As I glanced at the jug of bleach sitting in front of me, I suddenly imagined myself splashing the chemicals in his eyes before drowning him in the mop bucket. A grin of satisfaction rose on my lips at the thought.

Lately I had been dreaming up gruesome ways of killing my husband and enjoying my visions just as much. Whenever I was preparing dinner for him, I held the sharp knife and took pleasure in its smooth texture. I wanted to plunge the instrument right into his heart and watch him suffer a slow and painful death. While cooking the food, I often contemplated lacing it with poison. As he marched up to the second level of the house, the urge I felt to push the drunk over the banister was agonizing. I could simply care less if Troy were to overdose on drugs one day. That was a day I somewhat looked forward to.

"Maybe I should. I'll probably find your picture above the word 'jackass,'" I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, Gabi?"

Finally fed up with Troy, I slammed the brush against the floor and surged to my feet.

"Maybe I should. I'll probably find your picture above the word 'jackass.' What, does your addiction affect your hearing too?"

Boldly, I stood my ground as he promptly slapped me across the face.

"You better watch who you're talking to. I'll have your ass bleeding on the floor if you keep it up," he threatened before turning to leave the room.

"And who are you? Henry VIII? You're not exactly royalty, you know," I sneered at his back.

I hardly flinched once he spun around and gripped my arm.

"If you provoke me one more time, I swear I'm going to—"

"You're going to do what? Beat me until I'm unconscious or burn me with your lighter? You do that all the time. I was bound to get used to it sooner or later."

Since his usual threats were not enough to affect me, he decided to use words in hopes of hurting me.

"You're weak. All you do is cower against the walls and cry like a little baby. When I married you I expected to have a woman, not a toddler. Even your daughter can take a hit more than you can. You think the world revolves around you, but it doesn't. Take a look in the mirror and just see how pathetic you are."

"I'm pathetic?" I scoffed. "Why don't _you _take a look in the mirror and tell me what you see? Because what I see is an insecure, selfish, heartless man who will do just about anything to feel more than two inches tall. You're not even a man... You're a scared little boy crouching in a corner, waiting for somebody to feel sorry for you. Well, let me be the first to say that I don't. Whatever grudge you're holding about the past, leave it there and forget it. Using drugs and alcohol to numb the pain is one thing, but _don't _take it out on us."

With my point already made, I brushed past Troy and left him silent and stunned in the doorway. As I strolled through the hallway, I realized that I might have uncovered a dark secret of my husband's past that was clearly haunting him to that very day.

Remarkably, he did not go into a fit of rage. Instead, he stumbled down the stairs and began grabbing more bottles of liquor from the refrigerator. I grinned to myself knowing that I had indeed gotten through to him. While he frantically swallowed bottle after bottle thinking that he could avoid his own problems, I saw a man who desperately needed help.

A few hours later, I returned to the living room only to find Troy passed out on the floor. Cleaning up after one of his heavy drinking binges was not new to me. Almost every day I took the initiative to pick up the bottles littering the floor and struggled to prop him up on the couch.

The only time he wasn't in the mood to beat us was the following morning, when he woke with a terrible hangover. I usually gave him coffee to calm him down, but that always resulted in watching him heaving and buckling over the toilet bowl. By the end of the day, he became so weak that he couldn't move. Clearly, he was suffering almost as much as us. Whenever I attempted to soothe him, he would push me away and yell that he wanted to be left alone. So I left him.

I never felt sorry for him at all, but if he was truly willing to quit his deadly habits and find closure within his past, I was going to support him because that was my job as his wife. If he refused to turn his life around, then I would gladly watch him wither away. I just didn't care anymore.

Once the mess had been properly taken care of, I returned upstairs to complete my chores so that I could relax for the rest of the day. For reasons even I didn't know, I walked into the bathroom and began observing myself in the mirror.

The changes my body underwent over the past six months were dramatic, to say the least. Beneath my eyes were dark circles due to lack of sleep, and my hair was not as thick and healthy as it used to be. My once bright and cheerful green eyes had faded to an empty, opaque shade. I had not smiled out of joy in what seemed like forever. Blemishing the majority of my body was the evidence of countless beatings and attacks, as well as the emotional scars that would haunt me for as long as I lived.

Moaning to myself, I rest my palm against my stomach as the painful hunger pangs started. That was when I felt something that certainly was not there before. Hoping to investigate, I lifted my shirt and stared at the insignificant bump in perplexity.

It had been weeks since I'd eaten a sufficient meal, so I doubted that it was because I ate too much. Usually, I exercised whenever I felt that I was about to put on some weight, and I hadn't visited the gym for a long time. I was convinced that I must have gained a few pounds.

For what other possible reason on earth could my stomach be slightly raised?

"Hey, Mama, where's the..." Leah said as she suddenly appeared in the doorway.

By the time I hastily put my shirt back down, it was much too late.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, nothing. What did you want to ask me?"

"You were looking at your stomach..."

"I just gained a little weight, that's all," I replied.

Her eyebrows furrowed in skepticism, and it was clear that she thought otherwise.

"How? We've been eating scraps of food for weeks. There's no way that you could've gained weight in such a short amount of time."

"I tend to put on weight when I'm under a lot of stress. It's no big deal, Sweetie," I said while trying to dismiss the subject.

"Well, are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure I know how my body works by now. Come on, let's go downstairs and you can tell me what you were looking for."

As I guided my daughter through the room, she suddenly paused in the doorway.

"Do you think you might be... pregnant?"

Pregnancy was the farthest thing from my mind. It was possible, but highly unlikely at that point.

"What? No! I can't be pregnant. I've been using the same prevention methods for years. Why should it be any different this time?"

"Because, Daddy's been dragging you into the bedroom at least once a day. With that much 'activity' going on I wouldn't be surprised if you were," she said.

Refusing to believe her prediction, I stepped in front of the mirror and turned to the side. I then shook my head in disbelief.

"It's fat, Leah. I'm not pregnant... Would you stop saying that already? You're scaring me."

"And you should be scared. Papa would kill you if you were having a baby. It wouldn't survive a week in this house."

"Yeah, I know. Let's just not think about it and see what happens. If my stomach stays the same size in the next few weeks and I don't feel sick, then I'll know that I'm definitely not pregnant."

Still sticking with her theory, my daughter shrugged her shoulders before heading towards the stairs.

However, as I followed, the smallest part of me also believed that I was pregnant. The possibility of conceiving a baby as a result of sexual abuse was terrifying. Although Troy would have been mostly responsible for getting me pregnant, he'd blame me for not being careful, and probably punish me for assuming that he had anything to do with it.

If I really were pregnant, I would have to plan another escape. It seemed impossible under Troy's homemade prison, but a pregnancy would only motivate me to get out for the sake of saving a life. No unborn child of mine would die before having a chance at life.

That was why I hoped with all of my heart that I was not expecting.

**~WYLS~**

**Later That Night**

After Leah had gone to bed and Troy was still passed out on the couch, I lie awake as my thoughts remained occupied with worry. Sleeping seemed nearly impossible, and I'd spent the last hour plagued by a mental conflict.

Receiving confirmation was going to be the only way for me to get any kind of rest that night. However, if the results turned out to be my greatest fear, I would not sleep for days. I could not wait any longer.

Without hesitation, I tossed the covers aside and stepped into the bathroom. When I crossed the mirror like I had earlier, I gazed at my stomach again and released a sigh.

In the bathroom closet was a collection of pregnancy tests in which I kept whenever I suspected that I was pregnant. Knowing that the results varied on the test, I grabbed four different tests just to be sure. Once I'd used all of them, I found myself waiting anxiously for five minutes. Those few minutes felt like hours.

Meanwhile, I sat on the floor racked with anxiety. There was no telling how Troy would react if I had to tell him that I was having a second child. I feared that he would go on a rampage and try to kill the baby, which was something I surely did not want to happen.

After building the courage to get up and find out the results of the test, I reluctantly approached the counter and took a deep breath. My hand trembling, I slowly turned over the first test and opened my eyes. My heart sank.

Positive.

Perhaps the next test was going to be negative. I was sure of it. As I flipped the second test, my shoulders sank in disappointment. Positive again.

Though half of the tests came back confirming a pregnancy, I still held onto the hope that the remaining tests were both negative. I decided not to let myself suffer any longer, and prepared to turn both tests over at once.

"Please be negative," I pleaded to absolutely no one.

Hastily, I slammed them down on the counter, and my heart broke at the results I discovered.

Both read positive. Overcome with grief, I collapsed against the floor in tears as I was forced to accept the truth. I was carrying a child that was the fruit of rape by my husband.

What was I supposed to do? There I was, a prisoner in my own home with a dangerous secret and no way to hide it. It was inevitable that Troy was going to find out. Had I received the news six months before I would have been shedding tears of joy, not sorrow.

I cried because I was angry at everything, especially myself. Just because I had been deprived of freedom and simple luxuries did not mean that I shouldn't have fought for myself and for my daughter. Now that another life was in danger, I knew that I had to escape again. My unborn child was not going to suffer like we had. The decision was obvious. I had to turn my husband over to the police.

Once I was convinced that I had used up all of my tears, I quickly wiped them away and made a beeline towards Leah's bedroom. At that moment, I needed her more than ever.

She turned onto her side and gazed at me in confusion once I shook her awake.

"Mama? What's wrong?" she questioned sleepily.

"We're going to get out of here again. I just can't stay here anymore."

However, my daughter did not quite feel the same way.

"But how? Only Papa knows how to open the bolts from the inside. All the keys are in his den and that's locked, too."

"Just trust me, okay?"

As I extended my palm towards Leah, she gave me a wary glance before taking my hand.

"I trust you."

We were both aware that the risk was great, but we did not care as long as it was going to bring us closer to getting out.

Knowing that Troy was a light sleeper, we tiptoed down the stairs one by one in order to avoid waking him. Although the bolts were on the other side of the door, I figured that I if I could somehow get them unlocked we could run away to the nearest form of rescue.

The back door leading to the garage was also bolted from the outside, and it was far enough so that any noise would not travel into the living room. In the small crack between the door, I saw that we had three thick bolts to contend with.

"How are we going to get through?"

Not entirely sure of myself, I scanned the kitchen looking for any instrument that would provide us with any assistance. After a minute or so, my gaze locked on the blade set resting on top of the cabinets.

"I know… Climb on top of the counter and grab the sharpest knife you can find," I instructed my daughter.

Wasting no time, Leah carefully hopped onto the counter and reached for several knives. To test their sharpness, she ran each edge along the wooden holder and quickly found the sharpest one. My plan was to sever all three bolts so that we could make our escape through the garage without waking Troy.

Since the blade was slim enough to fit through the crack, I was able to easily guide it against the bolt. Hoping for the best, I began the painstaking process of sawing through the first metal bolt.

Though extremely tiring and difficult, I was able to cut through the first bolt after twenty minutes of labor, while Leah stood guard. Occasionally, I froze whenever I heard Troy shifting around in the living room. He never woke up, but it left us wanting to make it out faster for fear of getting caught. Another long period had passed before the blade sliced through the second bolt in the door.

A few centimeters of metal were all that separated me and my daughter from sheer freedom.

"We're really going to make it. Get ready," I whispered to her as I continued slicing.

Soon the blade moved closer and closer towards the end of the lock. The excitement of getting out permanently motivated me to cut faster, and we held our breaths in anticipation once I'd reached the final leg. With one last grunt of effort, I wiggled the knife between the door until the bolt was released. To avoid making the door creak or rattle, my daughter and I slowly stepped into the garage.

The rest was simple, as all we had to do was to open the garage door and run to the nearest neighbor. We were so close.

However, we failed to learn that Troy couldn't be beat.

As I guided Leah throughout the dark area, his menacing figure suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"What are you doing?!" he barked angrily.

That was when she ran straight for the door and attempted to lift it open. Her pained screams pierced the air as he grabbed a handful of curls and yanked them backwards.

Forgetting about my condition at the moment, I grabbed the closest weapon that I could fund and went on the attack. While he knelt on top of my daughter throwing punch after punch, I lifted the aluminum bat into the air and swung with all the strength I had.

I'd hoped to knock him out so that we could continue things as planned, but Troy never went down without a fight. He soon spun around and slammed me to the ground, causing the bat to fall as well.

It did not register that I was putting another life at risk until he pried the instrument from my grasp and struck me right in the stomach.

"Troy, stop! I'm pregnant!" I cried.

Suddenly his actions stopped abruptly as his eyes widened in shock.

_"What?" _

Even while she lie on the floor in a battered heap, Leah shook her head at me as if to prove that she was right all along.

"I'm pregnant. I-I don't know when it happened or how far along I am, but please don't hurt the baby, whatever you do."

Thinking that I was lying to him, Troy hauled me to my feet and lifted my shirt.

"I don't see anything except your fat stomach," he scoffed before raising his fist above my head. "I swear, if this is another one of your sympathy tricks…"

"It's not. I'm only a few weeks along."

"You, go to bed," he ordered Leah. "I need to have a talk with your mother."

Clearly defeated, my daughter sighed and wandered back into the house, disappointed that my plan had failed to work.

"How the hell did you get pregnant? And don't answer with some wise ass reply."

"You got me pregnant! I was bound to happen since you can't seem to get through a day without having sex with me!" I argued.

"It's_ your_ job to take birth control and prevent this kind of thing from happening! Whose fault is that, Gabriella?"

"Yours! God, you have no sense of responsibility whatsoever! What is it going to take for you to stop blaming us for your misery?"

"I don't know. Perhaps if you put a gun to your head and pull the trigger… Or how about you get an abortion? That would really make me happy," he sneered.

On the other hand, I was heartbroken. I knew that my husband was a callous monster, but I never imagined that he would go so far as to reject his unborn child.

"You want me to get an abortion?" I whispered, trying to mask the hurt in my voice.

"Did I stutter? Get rid of it. I don't want another little brat to deal with."

At that moment, I rather would have done anything else he wanted me to do than end a barely existent life. There were many things I vowed to never forgive him for, but knowing that he wanted to kill an innocent baby only showed me who he really cared about.

"I guess it really is all about you."

Disgusted to even be in his presence, I silently stormed back into the house and headed straight to bed.

As I left Troy in the garage to consider his mistakes, I soon heard objects being smashed and hurled throughout the room. He may have been angry, but I was furious. I couldn't believe that he would put his own selfish desires ahead of a child that deserved more love and attention than he ever did. Troy deserved nothing but to spend the rest of his life locked away in prison.

Since it seemed as though my daughter and I were not going to make it out for a very long time, I could only wish that he would realize how quickly he was going to lose us. If my pregnancy was not enough to convince him, I didn't know what would.

**I'm not entirely sure how many more chapters I have to add based on all the ideas I kept written down from 2007. It's a lot, I can tell you that much. I have a ton of work to do in order to edit/update them, also I have midterms coming up soon, so please bear with me. **

**Even though I wanted to keep things under wraps, I am going to tell you that Gabriella and Leah will get out soon and Troy will get help, but as always, I'll make it FULL of drama. Anyway, please leave positive feedback and I'll get back to you hopefully soon. :)**


	15. The Fight for Freedom

**Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait but the connection on my iPad wouldn't let me use the internet (grr...). Did I mention that I got that instead of a laptop? It's a long story. Anyway I'm really excited for this post. I was stuck for a few days but once I went back to my notes it all came flooding back. You don't want to miss the ending so please read and enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 15: The Fight for Freedom**

**Leah**

As my mother's pregnancy continued to progress, my father treated her even worse with each passing day. Because she had disobeyed his orders to abort the fetus, he decided that she deserved to suffer over the course of the next few months.

Despite numerous attempts to convince him that she needed to find out how far along she was, he blatantly rejected her wishes.

While blowing a ring of smoke into her face, he would say, "What do you need to see a doctor for? I'm not letting you out of this house so that you can come back with the entire police department."

He didn't trust us being outside, so we weren't allowed. I could not even attend school anymore, and to keep an eye on us throughout the day he managed to work from home. Not knowing the condition of the baby was terrifying for my mother, especially considering the abuse she still endured by my father.

There were many nights when she approached him, crippled by hunger pains, and was forced to beg for more than the few scraps he gave us. Whenever she timidly mentioned that the baby was also in need of nourishment, he would simply ignore her until she gave up and walked away. For his own entertainment my father would push her around, call her names and punish her for no reason.

While both occasionally became caught up in a brief altercation, she would constantly remind him, "Troy, the baby!"

But that only made him angrier, and caused him to beat her even harder. Why he was punishing her more than ever was beyond me. Perhaps he knew that he was to blame for putting my mother in such a compromising state, and he was not willing to accept that. He was probably terrified of hurting a tiny, defenseless person who had nothing but love for him.

Clearly, he did not know how to cope well. Although we could not tell how far along my mother was, she was starting to develop a larger stomach at a very rapid pace. She estimated that her due date must have been somewhere in the middle of summer, like late August or early September.

One evening in April, I decided to check up on her while my father remained locked up in the den sleeping. For the past week she had been experiencing bouts of nausea and vomiting, signs of an illness she had yet to identify.

I entered her room balancing one of her home remedies on a tray, and she gently coaxed me beside the bed.

"Ohh, you're so sweet, _mija._ You didn't have to do this for me."

"It's okay. I wanted to, and you need to get better," I said.

"I see you've already learned how to make chamomile tea on your own."

"I remembered to add the cinnamon this time. Let's hope it works."

As my mother tilted the mug towards her lips, I gazed at her stomach in slight concern. She soon noticed and gave me a reassuring smile.

"He's already starting to move. Whenever Troy is near he kicks like crazy," she laughed softly.

"He does? How does it feel?"

"Most of the time it feels like gas… Sometimes it feels like butterflies moving or popcorn popping."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. It can get uncomfortable at times when I'm trying to sleep; or when one of his feet poke me in the ribs. But it's not painful at all."

"Why do you keep calling the baby a 'he?'"

She shrugged, not entirely sure herself.

"I don't know. I can't really explain it, but it just _feels _like it's going to be a boy. It's my intuition, I guess."

After watching her take another sip of the hot liquid, I soon built the courage to ask her a question out of curiosity.

"Is he moving now? Is it okay if I… feel him kick?"

"He's not awake now, but go ahead. He just might wake up for his big sister," she said while affectionately smoothing my hair.

I stepped closer and tentatively placed my hand against her stomach. We remained there for some time, waiting for the slightest amount of movement.

Suddenly, I drew my hand back in surprise once I felt a fleeting tap against the middle of my palm. My mother gently guided it back so that I could experience such a phenomenal sensation.

"Wow! It's like he's tumbling around in there. He seems so small," I said.

"You were small when I was pregnant with you. Then right before my due date you just grew until the doctors told me that you were going to be at least ten pounds."

"That must've hurt. But I wasn't really ten pounds, right?"

"No, not exactly. You were eight pounds, six ounces. And you were the most precious little thing I had ever seen. Even weeks after we brought you home, I still couldn't believe that you were actually mine. You're still very special, you know," she said.

As my mother tucked a curl behind my ear, I blushed furiously.

"I-I don't know. I'm just a person like everyone else."

"But you _are _special, Leah. Don't let anyone, especially your father make you feel otherwise. You may have been forced to leave your childhood too early, but it shows just how mature you've become over the past year. I am so proud to have a daughter who is so courageous and determined. You're not any of those nasty words he calls you, and you shouldn't care what he thinks of you. He doesn't truly love you. I do."

Still hesitant to accept that she was right, I wordlessly shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what to say. However, I had a piece of advise for her myself. "

And you're not weak like he says you are. You're strong, Mama," I told her.

My mother was speechless as I placed the tray beside her and left the room.

Meanwhile, I had my own agenda to complete that night. After pressing my ear against the den door to make sure that my father was still asleep, I stepped into my bedroom to gather my precious items. I rummaged through my closet in search of the things I had not used for several months, and grinned to myself once I'd found them.

Lifting my practice leotard from the box, I took in its faint vanilla scent. Mrs. Angie's studio always smelled like vanilla. I then reached for the pair of leather skin-tone slippers, which I once used in almost all of my routines. On the underside of the left shoe was a dark scuff mark due to countless rounds of spins and twirls. Lastly I grabbed the case that contained a CD copy of my routine music.

It was the very song that I was supposed to dance to at the competition in Albuquerque the year before. Knowing that there was a good chance that I was permanently banned from going outside, I wasn't even going to mention the upcoming competitions around my father. But he couldn't stop me from dancing for as long as I was breathing.

I was determined to finish that routine. Although cold, dark and void, I could dance in the basement without my father suspecting a thing. It also seemed to epitomize what my soul had become since he started abusing drugs and alcohol.

There were many days I spent watching kids play on the street with envy. I would see the joy that was etched in their features and became jealous that they had freedom and I didn't. Eventually, I grew to hate them after I'd had enough of seeing the glowing lights from their dining rooms as they sat to have dinner with their families. The wife and children seemed so happy, laughing and telling stories about their day to the attentive fathers, never having to worry about him returning home one day and hurting them. We used to be like those people.

Our once warm and loving home had been dramatically reduced to nothing but a glorified prison. At least thieves and murderers were allowed to play outside.

Eager to dance I quickly stepped into the black leotard, slipped the shoes onto my feet and ventured into the basement. I made sure to turn down the volume on the stereos before placing the CD into the player.

For the next few minutes, I winced and hissed in agony while I attempted to regain my flexibility. It had been a while since I had stretched, but I had no choice but to endure the searing pain if I wanted to dance with everything I had. If anything, it was better than earning a slap in the face.

Once I knew that I was ready, I did not start immediately. I sat on the floor, hugged my knees to my chest and thought back to the words of encouragement Angie once gave me about letting my true emotions show. She reminded me that dancing in competitions wasn't about putting on a play for the audience. She told me it was about illustrating actions and movements that connected me to their feelings.

"What are you feeling right now?" she would ask me if I was sitting in her studio.

Whatever I felt at the moment, whether it was jubilation, fury, fear or sorrow, I could easily express my emotions through dance. As I sat alone in that empty basement, the only emotion I felt was pain.

I started the music and became lost in a world of resentment, anger and desperation. The culmination of those dreadful feelings penetrated my flesh and bones, striking my deepest core until I performed my final jump and crashed to the floor in tears.

All I wanted to know was the truth. What had my mother and I possibly could have done to deserve this kind of punishment? Why did my father feel the desire to hurt us after we gave him nothing but love and trust?

He would often bark, "It's your fault my life is a living hell," when we had no knowledge of ever doing him wrong. Listening to my own father blame me for his misery was just as painful as enduring one of his drug-induced attacks. Those words hurt more than any punishment I had ever received.

Just when I thought that I had spent the last few minutes alone, a figure appeared from the top of the stairs and revealed itself to me.

"What did we ever do to him? He promised he would never hurt us."

"I wish I knew, Sweetheart. I really do."

My mother carefully took a seat on the floor and pulled me into her arms.

"I just want to wake up one morning and see him back to normal. Does he have any idea what he's done to us?!"

"I think he does know. Whatever happened in the past has returned to haunt him, so he's taking his anger out on the closest emotional attachment he can find... Us."

"Well, it's not our fault! That bastard needs to find a psychiatrist if he wants to work out his problems!"

"Leah—"

"No, Mom! I've had it!" I exclaimed, pushing her away.

"I'm sick of being treated like an animal and giving in to his orders. He doesn't care who he hurts as long as it gets him what he wants. Don't you get it? The only way we'll ever escape this hell is if he kills us one day. He's selfish and arrogant, and I wish he wasn't my father!"

Suddenly, a loud creak directed our gazes towards the staircase, where my father was stood leaning against the banister.

"Bravo, Angel. I thought you'd never put the pieces together, but nothing gets past you, does it?" he began.

The menacing grin that arose on his face was a telling sign that he was after blood. My mother and I only sent resentful daggers toward him as he stepped out of the shadows.

"What do _you_ want?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you guessed correctly. Yesterday I started picking out places where I could bury your bodies after I was finished with you. It was a matter of time until I wanted to get rid of the both of you; but not before I check two more things off my 'to-do' list... And I'm going to finish that list tonight, starting with you."

Before I knew what hit me, I was on the floor bleeding from my nose. My father promptly tossed me over his shoulder while I struggled to get free. I kicked, punched and slapped him as I was carried towards the staircase.

However, my mother was not about to let him get away with hurting me. She launched to her feet and became caught up in a scuffle with him. Unwilling to put me down, he began throwing punches with one fist in an attempt to fight her off.

While it sometimes seemed as though he was growing weaker, my mother faced an even bigger dilemma as she tried to protect the baby during the struggle. The weight of my unborn brother caused her to become unsteady and made it difficult for her to dodge every rapid swing.

After a few minutes, my father became impatient and gave her a forceful shove to the floor. But she was far from giving up. My mother staggered to her feet once more and charged. She did not think that anyone was in any real danger, until he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and held it against my throat.

"Come at me one more time, and I'll shove this thing right through her throat. Back off!" he warned.

Before my mother could even attempt to move, he then pointed the blade at her stomach. She immediately stopped.

"And then this little shit can join her."

"Troy, don't do this. Please. You don't really want to hurt her," she said calmly.

"Oh, yes I do. You wouldn't stop me. You can't. You're too weak. Nothing but a worthless hunk of garbage that even the dogs wouldn't piss on. The only thing you were ever good for was sex and being my slave. And once I kill you and your daughter, no one is going to miss you, _especially _me."

Ultimately stunned, my mother shrunk away in dejection before breaking into sobs. Satisfied with himself, he dropped the blade into his back pocket and carried me out of the basement. Meanwhile I desperately screamed for her to save me. But it was clear that his bitter words had left her brokenhearted.

On the other hand, I continued to fight for my innocence, wriggling and twisting myself between his grip.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this. I'm going to have so much fun with you," he chuckled.

Soon, I was brought into the master bedroom, where my father tied my wrists against the bedpost and began removing his own clothing. Once he was left in his boxers, he climbed onto the bed to remove my leotard. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping to disappear into thin air, wishing that I were somewhere else.

Suddenly, he paused in his task. When I opened my eyes I found my mother standing behind him, pressing the tip of the large switchblade against his back. She was breathing heavily, like she had been running. Perhaps she was just terrified.

"Get your hands off of her! My daughter has suffered enough living with you, and I'm not about to let you take advantage of her!"

Without the slightest ounce of concern, he turned his attention back to me and carelessly tore the garment from my body.

"Stop it! Let her go, or I swear to God I'll kill you! Let her go!" she screeched, tears of anger streaming down her face.

Her darkened eyes revealed that she was as serious as she had ever been.

"Go ahead. You're too scared and too weak to kill me."

For my mother, that was one too many times.

"I'm not weak!"

Without hesitation, she promptly sliced into his skin and left a large gash across his shoulder. Not caring that he was bleeding profusely, my father drew his foot backwards and gave her a swift kick to the chest, sending her colliding against the wall. He then sat on top of her and began pounding her body with his fists. I could do nothing but struggle to get free as she soon reminded him about the baby.

"Stop! You're hurting the baby!"

"That mistake can burn in hell for all I care!" he growled.

Once he was convinced that she was down for the count, he grabbed the blade from the floor and started to approach me. Unable to move, I began to plead for my life in hopes of changing his

mind.

"You ruined my life. Now I'm going to finish yours..."

His arm seemed to be moving in slow motion as he raised the blade above his head, and aimed for my chest.

If there was one thing I wanted to say to my mother before I died, I would tell her how much I loved her and how grateful I was to have been her daughter. She would never knew it, but she was worth more to me than life itself. Not knowing how I really felt about her was going to be just as sad.

At that moment, I heard her scream my name before rushing towards us. As the blade came closer, so did she. Horror set in once I realized what she was going to do.

"No, Mama!" I cried.

Not much happened during the next few seconds. As she threw herself across my body, I felt the force of the blade being thrust into her flesh. There was a pained gasp, followed by a blood-curdling scream. My mother collapsed to the floor beside the bed and drew the blade from her side in panic.

Using all the strength I had left, I tugged my wrists from the fashioned restraints and knelt by her side.

"Why would you do that?! She's pregnant!" I screeched at my father, who suddenly realized what he had done.

"I-I didn't mean to! I never meant to hurt her," he stammered.

Furiously, I thrust the blood-stained garments I held against her side under his nose.

"You never meant to hurt her? Look at what you did to her! I'm going to lose her because of you!"

"I'm so sorry! I—"

_"Do something!"_

Not knowing what to do, my father quickly left the room and raced to the den. Meanwhile, I couldn't stop crying as my mother weakly ran her fingers through my hair.

"Why did you do it, Mama? You should've let him take me instead of you," I sobbed quietly.

"What kind of mother would I be if I let you die? You mean everything to me, Leah. I love you, and that was all I've ever wanted you to know."

"You're not going to die, Mama. I won't let you!"

"Hey, don't be afraid, _Nena._ Whatever happens I'll always be alive and well in your heart. Don't you ever forget that. Promise?" she declared softly.

"Mommy..."

"Do you promise?"

If my mother was going to die, I had to keep this promise to her.

"Yes, Mama. I promise," I hiccuped.

Soon, my father returned dialing on a cell phone to get in contact with the emergency services. However, while he stood listening to the line ring, I released a sigh of relief once I heard the melodious sound of our rescue: sirens.

As I glanced at the window, I could see the unmistakable flash of blue and red lights. Unable to fathom what he was seeing, my father dropped the phone and stepped closer to the window, only to come face to face with an army of police cruisers. He could not hide any longer.

Words could not describe how happy I was to hear an officer's voice over the loudspeaker.

"Troy Bolton, we have you surrounded! Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head!" the man ordered.

My father glanced at us in conflict, fear evident in his eyes.

"Wh-what do I do?"

"Surrender, Troy. You're going to get help for your addiction. You'll get better, I promise," my mother whispered.

"Please surrender, Daddy. Do it if you want Mama to live."

Guns drawn, a group of officers cautiously entered the bedroom, and were shocked at the scene they discovered: a half naked teenage girl, a pregnant woman with a critical stab wound, and a very guilty father.

"Lower your weapons. The suspect is unarmed. I need this woman and child removed from the premises immediately."

As my father was handcuffed, we soon discovered that they received a tip from his coworker Mark, who was earlier arrested for drug use and possession. The authorities did not expect to find this additional list of crimes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I'm sorry!" he continued to plead while they hauled him to his feet and escorted him out of the house.

That was when a crew of paramedics entered, and prepared to transport my mother to the hospital. Once they realized that she was pregnant, they quickened their pace fearing that the baby's life was also in danger.

I remained by her side as they wheeled her out of the house on a gurney, just as my father was being guided towards an awaiting cruiser. A line of caution tape had been erected around the property to keep bystanders at a safe distance.

They seemed shocked and distraught that something like this had been going on right under their noses. In the back of the ambulance where paramedics rushed to save my mother, I gazed back at the busy crime scene, unable to fathom that we had finally escaped. I held her hand and gripped it with all the strength I had.

"We made it, Mama. We're free," I told her as she slowly wiped the tears from my eyes.

"I told you that we'd make it..."

As my gaze met my father's from across the front yard, I could see that he was extremely remorseful for ever hurting us. We kept our eyes locked as he was helped into the car, and as I squeezed my mother's palm between my hands.

Then, he mouthed those three genuine words I had not heard from him in over a year: "I love you."

The cruiser began to move in the opposite direction, the very moment the ambulance pulled onto the road. Once my father turned in his seat and pressed his head against the window in disappointment, I mustered the heart to repeat those same words.

I could not deny my feelings even if I wanted to.

"I love you."

**Yay! They're finally free! But this is far from over, of course. Please keep on the lookout for an update because I want to continue as soon as I can. Let me know what you thought about the chapter and thanks for reading! **


	16. Harsh Truths

**Hey guys, I'm back. Busy with school, as usual but I'm back. It's becoming increasingly difficult working on new chapters because I have so much things do to at once that I have to put writing on the side to get homework done bleahh... But anyways Happy Wednesday and enjoy this one. :)**

**Chapter 16: Harsh Truths**

**Leah**

Shortly after our arrival to the hospital, my mother was quickly carried away to the Intensive Care Unit for her stab wound. She had lost so much blood that the doctors feared that she would not make it through the night. If they were scared, then I was terrified.

Meanwhile, I was being poked and prodded by a team of nurses. They observed the cuts and bruises covering my body and the fractured nose I'd received from my father. And although I reassured them numerous times, they assumed that I was lying when I said that I was never raped by my father.

Unwilling to listen to a child, the nurses pinned my shoulders against the examination table, removed my underwear and checked for evidence of sexual abuse. Of all the tests, that one was the most humiliating.

After the dreadful observation, they treated my broken nose before allowing a detective to question me alone. Thankfully, the officer was also a woman.

As she stepped into the small room, my eyes automatically fell to the floor in discomfort. The woman seemed very friendly, but opening up to her was going to be extremely difficult. Because of my father, I could no longer bring myself to trust even the kindest of strangers.

"Hello. You must be Leah. I'm Detective Hernandez, but you can call me Julia if you'd like," she began while extending her palm to me.

For a moment, I hesitated. Although she was simply offering me an innocent handshake, I couldn't help picturing the hand coming at my face at a blinding speed. Then again, I didn't want to be rude.

"Hi," I mumbled after giving her hand a timid shake.

I felt my face grow hot as Julia took a seat in front of me and pulled out a notepad.

"I'm just going to ask you a few questions and try to give me the best answer that you can come up with, okay?"

Without a word, I nodded slowly.

"For how long has your father been abusing drugs and alcohol?" she asked.

"Since last May, I think. He came home drunk one night and…" I quickly trailed off feeling uneasy.

"It's okay to tell me. I just want to know what's been going on over the past year."

By the warm glimmer in her eyes, I could tell that she wasn't going to hurt me.

"He hit my mom," I murmured.

"He hit your mom? Was it the first time you saw him put his hands on her?"

"Yes."

"Did he hit you?"

"No… B-but he never did before that," I added hastily.

"So, when did he start harming you?"

"After he started taking drugs. He would swallow these white pills and then a while later he'd come after us. The first time he chased my mom, she grabbed me out of my bed and we both hid in the attic until he left."

Julia jotted down a few more notes while I took the opportunity to get a better look at her. She had dark, curly hair and glowing olive skin, just like my mother. I looked away before she could lift her gaze towards me again.

"Besides the beatings, were you or your mother abused in any other way?"

Embarrassed to say it out loud, I stared at the floor in silence. The thought of it caused tears to build in my eyes.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Leah. It's just me and you, okay?" she gently reassured me.

After taking a deep breath, I eventually built the courage to talk about the traumatic events I had experienced.

"Um, there were a few times when he tried to rape me. In the middle of the summer, he broke my mother's wrist and sent her to the hospital. When she was out getting treatment he chased me into my room and grabbed me. He took off my clothes and some of his own, but she got back in time to stop him. She hit him over the head with a lamp and knocked him out. And while he was unconscious, we ran," I explained.

"You packed up all your things and left? To go where?"

"As far away from him as possible. First we went to Texas and stayed in Pecos for a week. Then we moved to a city called Sedona in Arizona. My mom and I loved it there so much that we planned to live there until he stopped looking for us."

"How long did you two live in Arizona?"

"We stayed there until the beginning of September," I replied.

"So you're telling me that you and your mother lived somewhere else besides your own home for nearly three months?"

"Yes."

"And not once did it ever occur to you to call the police?"

Without a word I shook my head, feeling stupid.

"No… I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, honey. Don't apologize; it's okay. In cases such as these, the victims are _never _at fault for anything. It's your father's fault that you're both hurting, and it is his fault that he's going to spend the rest of his life in a jail cell," the detective said firmly.

As Julia leaned back in her seat, she pointed her pen towards the hallway.

"I heard that your mother is pregnant. Was that a result of forced sex?"

"Yes. After he caught us in Sedona, he tied us up and put us in duffel bags to carry us back to New Mexico. When we got home, he beat us really bad, and the he started to choke my mother. I didn't want her to die, so I…"

The words became caught in my throat as I struggled to recall the gruesome scenes of that horrifying evening.

"What did you do, Leah?"

"I-I took off my clothes and told him to rape me. It seemed like the only way to stop him from killing my mom. I didn't want her to leave me!"

"What happened next?"

"She didn't want to see me get hurt, so she offered herself to him instead. She told him that he could do anything he wanted to her as long as he didn't target me. So, he listened to her. But he was only going to take her unless… I watched," I whimpered.

Sensing that the tears were about to fall, she grabbed a nearby box of tissues and held it out to me.

"I know that this must be very difficult for you to get out, but please tell me what happened from then on. We would like to get as much detail as we can before we decide if your father should go to trial."

"He treated my mother like she was some kind of toy. I remember her crying and screaming in pain. She was begging for mercy, but he just wouldn't stop. He kept going for hours until she passed out. I guess her body could only handle so much damage. To think that he wanted to do the same thing to me was scary. There was so much I saw that I still have nightmares about it. I still can't imagine how she was able to wake up and face him the next morning. She didn't have a choice, anyway."

"Did he ever make you watch again after that?" she asked.

"No. That was just a one-time thing. He loved using me to make her surrender to something that she didn't want to do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Whenever he wanted to have sex and she told him that she didn't want to, he'd point at her then at me and say, 'It's you or her. Make your choice.' And of course, she always gave into him because she didn't want me to get hurt. Most of the time it was just mind games," I said.

"Leah, when we arrived at your house earlier tonight we were shocked, to say the least. We had left the station expecting a routine drug bust, but finding victims was something we weren't prepared for. You were in nothing but your undergarments, and your mother was lying on the floor bleeding profusely. This kind of crime is _never _overlooked and we will see to it that your father receives the justice he deserves," Julia said firmly.

While I was very relieved that I would never have to worry about my father anymore, the thought of never seeing him again was terrifying. Despite the pain, suffering and trauma he put us through, I did not have the heart to hate him. There was some resentment, of course, and I didn't love him as deeply as I once did. But I loved him nonetheless.

Once the session was over, I was asked to recall the phone number of a close relative. Remembering my grandparents' phone had taken me a few long moments since I had been banned from calling anyone in over a year.

The very moment I told my grandmother that her daughter was in the emergency room, she dropped the phone before I could explain why. I had expected her to contact the rest of my family, so I was not surprised to see my father's parents, my mother's parents and the rest of their family.

As they approached me clamoring frantically, I became overwhelmed by the dozens of questions they bombarded me with.

"What happened to her?"

"Where's your father?"

"Why are you covered in bruises?"

Finally, my grandmother Beatriz stepped forward to ask me face to face.

"Leah, where is my daughter?"

They were depending on me to give them the answers they were looking for, but I was reluctant to deliver the shocking news. The pressure quickly became too much, and I promptly broke into tears.

To my relief, Julia soon approached the group to explain what had happened.

"Good evening. My name is Julia Hernandez and I'm with the Albuquerque Police Department. As of now, Troy Bolton is being processed on multiple charges of drug use and now domestic abuse."

"What?"

"When we arrested Mark Spencer for drug use and possession, it was clear that he was dealing out of his house. We soon found out that his main client was indeed Troy Bolton," she said.

"_Our_ son, Troy? Well, are you sure?" my other grandmother, Lindsay questioned.

"Yes, Troy Bolton. Unfortunately, we also discovered that Leah and her mother have been suffering at the hands of the suspect for over a year. When we arrived at the crime scene, what we found certainly shocked us."

"Please, Officer, my daughter. What has happened to my daughter?" Grandma Beatriz pleaded fearfully.

"I'm sorry to say that she has suffered—"

"It's okay, Julia. I can tell them now," I said bravely.

"Go ahead, Leah."

Although my intention was to explain every detail of my father's addiction and the treatment he gave us, I was reduced to a rambling mess at the mention of my mother.

"He hurt us! Last year he came home drunk and hit Mama for no reason. Then he started drinking and taking drugs and beating us and treating us like slaves. And we tried to call for help but he wouldn't let us, and he kept trying to rape me. We got away and lived in Arizona until he kidnapped us and brought us back home. Then he started treating us even worse! He raped Mama every day and then he tried raping me again tonight. He threatened to kill me if we didn't cooperate, but Mama got in the way and he… He stabbed her!""

Immediately, the group became hysterical, ultimately shocked by my explanation.

"Oh, my God! My daughter! How could he hurt you like that after all you've given him?" my grandmother exclaimed angrily.

As for my father's parents, they seemed confused and heartbroken that their son had committed such a callous crime against his own wife and daughter. Although they were just as outraged as my mother's relatives, they were soon targeted because of their relation to him.

"Do you have any idea what your son has put my daughter and granddaughter through?! Gabriella is probably fighting for her life right now because of him!"

"We had no idea that he was hurting them all this time! We're just as concerned about Gabriella as you are," Grandma Lindsay replied anxiously.

"Don't you lie to us! We'll throw you two in jail if we find out that you had anything to do with this!" Grandma Beatriz threatened, while the group zealously agreed.

Before I thought that my grandparents were going to be lynched, I quickly placed myself between the families in hopes of defending them.

"They didn't know, honestly! None of this is their fault. I mean, this is the first time I'm seeing all of you in a year and I don't want to see you fighting when we're supposed to be together for Mommy," I whimpered.

As I broke into sobs, my grandmother pulled me into her arms and kissed the top of my head.

"I am so sorry, Leah. We're just appalled and frightened that your father, of all people, would do something like this. He promised that he would protect both of you, but he hurt you and betrayed your trust instead… Look at you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. My nose will heal in a few weeks," I murmured, wiping the last of my tears.

Just then, a surgeon emerged from the adjacent room and slowly approached us.

"Are you the family of Gabriella Bolton?" he asked.

"Yes, we are, Doctor. How is my daughter? Is she going to live?" my grandfather pressed.

Because the bottom half of his face we shielded by the mask, no one could read his expression. We feared the worst.

However, he soon revealed the mask to reveal a warm smile. My mother was going to be okay.

"She's doing great, sir. Your daughter is very lucky to be alive. The blade missed her internal organs and the fetus by mere milli—"

"_She's pregnant?!_ _He stabbed her while she was pregnant?!"_

"The baby will also be fine, Ma'am. She should deliver a healthy boy or girl in about nine to eight weeks' time," the doctor replied calmly.

"Eight weeks? But my mother's only five months along. Does that mean that the baby will be premature?"

"That's quite the contrary. In fact, when we had one of our nurses perform an ultrasound to check on the fetus, she discovered that your mother's due date is in approximately two months."

My family had heard enough.

"Please let us see her. I need to know that she's okay," my grandmother pleaded.

"You may go ahead. She just woke up from surgery and we moved her to the recovery ward down the corridor. She's still in slight pain, so if she seems out of it, we only gave her some pain medication to help."

Without a second to spare, the group rushed down the hallway hoping to find my mother. Although I also followed, I was slightly apprehensive to see her lying in a hospital bed, needles and tubes protruding from her body.

As Grandma Beatriz gently pushed open the door, she gasped quietly once she found her daughter gingerly caressing her stomach. The squeal of the door caused her to open her eyes, and she also gasped.

"Mama," she whispered.

My grandmother and the rest of her family succumbed to their emotions and surged into the room. Cautiously, each family member gave her kisses, hugs and well wishes to her and the baby.

"We're so thankful that you're okay. We had no idea that this was happening. If I knew I never would've…"

"It's okay; I understand. I forgive you, Mama," she said softly.

Letting out tears of her own, Beatriz planted a kiss on my mother's forehead and carefully embraced her.

"_Te quiero, mijita."_

"I love you, too, Mama."

Soon my other grandparents stepped forward, ready to apologize.

"Gabriella we are so sorry for all of this. If there's anything we can do to help…"

"No, don't blame yourselves. You did nothing wrong. I don't want you to feel responsible for what Troy did," she murmured, and slowly opened her arms to hug them.

As my grandparents embraced my mother, she glanced over their shoulders and looked directly at me.

"Leah, Sweetie… Why don't you come here and sit by Mama?"

Fleetingly, I stared at the wad of bandages on her side and swallowed nervously.

"That's okay. I-I don't want to hurt you or anything," I responded timidly.

"Come on, baby. Don't be scared; I'm fine," she reassured gently.

Reluctantly, I moved closer to the bed while avoiding the tubes and wires surrounding her. It was not until she flashed that loving smile that I burst into tears.

"Mommy!"

"Oh, my angel. I love you so much."

"I love you_,_ Mama. You scared me. I thought I was going to lose you forever," I cried, tightening my grip around her.

"No, Leah. I promised that I wasn't going to leave you and I would never break that promise to you. I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible."

I managed a smile as she kissed me and brushed away my tears.

Gingerly, I placed my hand against her stomach and asked, "How's the baby?"

"The baby's doing great. And guess what?"

"What?"

"I was right... You are getting a baby brother," she murmured gently.

"The doctor told us that you're almost at your due date is closer than we thought. Are you nervous?"

"Not really. I don't feel very prepared, but if that's the case I'll try my best to give him the best life that I possibly can."

For the rest of the day our family remained in that recovery room, never leaving her side. She soon built the courage to recall all the horrible events that we had experienced, and survived, together. I knew that it was going to be a long time before any of them would forgive my father for hurting us and isolating us from our own family.

My only hope was that he would receive the treatment he desperately needed. Only then would he realize the pain and suffering he put us through.

**I know that a lot of you thought that Troy did****n't even deserve to get help but don't worry. Everything will fall into place and you will soon enough understand why he just won't be locked up. Thanks for reading! :D**


	17. Lessons

**Morning guys. Yep, it's been a long MONTH without posting, but now that finals are over and I'm finally getting a break, I was able to finish the rest of the chapter last night. Please enjoy. I worked very hard on this one so tell me what you think. :)**

**Chapter 17: Lessons**

**Troy**

It did not register that I was probably never going to see my family again as I was taken into custody. It didn't register while the officer slapped the handcuffs around my wrists and recited my Miranda Rights. I didn't realize the permanent trauma and damage I'd caused my family until I found myself being escorted into a police station.

I exercised my right to remain silent once they began the task of processing me. Within minutes my thumb was pressed into an ink pad to record my fingerprint, and my pockets were immediately emptied.

Had I known that I was going to get arrested, I would've abandoned the new stash of drugs I'd received from Mark some few days ago. I had practically handed over the evidence to them.

He was lucky that he was being booked in a precinct in another city, otherwise I would've killed him for turning me over to the authorities.

The treatment I received there was awful. They treated me as if I were some kind of criminal. Even the photographer was hostile as I was shoved in front of a camera.

"Say 'cheese,'" he said gruffly.

Resisting the urge to lunge at the rude man, I stared guiltily into the lens as I accepted what I had done to Gabriella and Leah.

Once I made a mental tally of the countless crimes I'd committed—drug use, alcohol abuse, domestic violence, aggravated battery, kidnapping, sexual assault, aggravated rape and attempted murder—it was clear that I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison.

To make sure that I would be alive to endure my punishment, I was given something to eat and a bottle of water before one deputy showed me where I was sleeping for the night. After jamming the key into the thick metal slot, he hauled the heavy bars of the gate across and guided me into the tiny, dark cell.

In slight disgust, I warily gazed at my bedroom for that night, which had a sink, a toilet, and a metal bed frame with nothing but a thin, worn mattress.

"Start getting used to this treatment. This is how things are gonna be from now on," he said before slamming the bars shut.

Knowing that I was powerless to control my own fate from now on, I took a seat on the mattress and buried my head between my hands.

How could I have ruined my life in such a short amount of time? All I ever wanted to do over the course of the year was to make the daily strain of life easier for me and my family. I didn't want to be the overprotective father who suffocated my daughter or the workaholic husband who hardly gave his wife any attention. I wanted to be more understanding; more attentive. I wanted to be better.

Instead of deciding what was best for them, I became caught up in selfish desires that were anything but the best for my family. Because of my carelessness and overinflated ego, we all ended up suffering in the end.

Within minutes of sitting in that cell, I learned that the officials were trying to set my arraignment date for the very next day, which was a likely possibility in a state like New Mexico.

Had I committed such a heinous crime that they wanted to lock me away as quickly as possible?

The thought of going to prison in a few weeks frightened me immensely. Those mug shots I watched on the news for years were the faces of cruel, hardened criminals; not devoted, hardworking fathers like me. I wasn't like them—I couldn't have been. Then again, they didn't think that they deserved to go to jail either.

From now on my presence would be considered a threat, and people would point their fingers at me and condemn me wherever I went. As for my family, they would never trust me for as long as I lived knowing that I'd hurt the people I loved the most, especially my wife and daughter. Perhaps I was a criminal, because I could now relate to the likes of thieves, killers and thugs.

Like them, I had nothing.

Once the last detective had returned, I knew that she'd spent most of the evening in the emergency room. I decided that it was best not to ask her about the condition of my wife. If I really cared about her, I wouldn't have driven that blade into her abdomen in the first place.

As the woman approached my cell full pace, I knew that I was about to receive an earful.

"In all my years as a detective I have never met such a selfish, cold hearted man like you. What kind of a sick monster are you? Treating your wife like some kind of sex toy and telling her to get an abortion when you got her pregnant; trying to rape your own daughter because you have nothing better to do. You probably would've killed them if we hadn't gotten there in time!"

Stunned, I said nothing, but watched her pace back and forth in outrage. I nearly jumped as she suddenly pointed her finger at my face.

"You know, you are so lucky that we don't support the death penalty anymore, because had your wife died tonight you would've been in the state's mortuary before the end of the week. But since the most you can get is twenty years I will fight to make sure that you don't ever leave!" she threatened.

Not knowing how to respond, I remained silent hoping that she would realize that I was too intimidated to speak. But because I was to be forever labeled a "dangerous" felon, she mistook my alarmed gaze for a threatening stare.

"You can glare at me as much as you want. I am not afraid of cowards like you."

"I wasn't threatening you at all," I replied calmly.

"Well, if you weren't staring at me in a threatening way, then for what reason were you looking at me like that?"

Again, I said nothing, which led her to predict my exact thoughts.

"Oh, don't tell me that I intimidate you," the detective guessed sarcastically.

Unfortunately, she decided to share her discovery with the rest of the police station. As each deputy and officer joined in on the laugh, I became ultimately humiliated. Of course, I wasn't going to show them that it was true.

"If that's the case then you definitely won't survive prison. You're a typical coward like the rest of them... You enjoy pushing around people who are weaker than you and act like nothing can faze you. But when it's time to own up to your mistakes you're too scared to face the consequences."

By that time, her remarks were quickly starting to make me angry.

"I'm not a coward, and I'm sure as hell not afraid of you. And don't bother threatening me because you're just wasting your time," I said darkly.

"I'm glad to know that someone finally took notice. You're right, I am wasting my time. Right about now I could be eating dinner with my family or taking a nap. But instead I get stuck babysitting morons like you!"

Although my intention was to avoid stepping on anyone's toes, that detective killed whatever ounce of consideration that was left in me. It was not my first encounter with women like her. They were all the same: hot-blooded, stubborn, pretentious women who couldn't seem to pass up a fight.

"You know what? I'm not going to get sucked into an argument with you. So can you at least go away and let me enjoy being locked up?" I retorted.

Before she could open her mouth to speak again, I turned over on the mattress so that my back was facing her.

"Fine, then... Besides, you'll need all the time you can get because your arraignment is in two days. When I said that justice was going to be swift, I sure as hell wasn't joking."

I sighed to myself in frustration as I listened to her heels stomp past my cell. It was just my luck that my sentence would be determined in a matter of days, while other offenders had the fortune of waiting for months.

However, I tried to stay positive. Prison could not have been as bad as everyone said it was, and if that detective couldn't faze me, then no cold-blooded murderer could.

**~WYLS~**

**Gabriella**

The very next morning I was anxious to see Detective Hernandez knowing that it was my turn to be interviewed. She stepped into my room holding a bag with food and a cup of tea.

"Good morning, Gabriella. How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you."

"Where's your daughter?"

Without a word I pointed towards the window where Leah slept on the guest couch below.

"Did she sleep well?"

"Actually, she did. She usually has nightmares about... well, you know what happened," I hesitated.

After shutting the door, Julia approached my bedside and placed the food on a nearby table.

"I hope you don't mind but I bought you some breakfast."

"Really?" I replied in surprise.

"Are you sure? One of the nurses is supposed to get my breakfast from the cafeteria."

"You don't want that. The food is much too bland. Really, it's no problem. Take it," she insisted kindly.

Despite my apprehension, I knew that it would be the first sufficient meal I was going to have in months.

The only reason I was so hesitant was because of the cruel game Troy used to play, when he would offer food to my daughter and I, and snatch it away at the very last moment. Then he would tell us that we were too slow before wolfing it down right in front of us.

But if there was someone who really was in need of nourishment, it was my unborn son. I was not going to eat for the sake of my own health, but for his.

"Thank you."

As I took a sip of the tea, Julia pulled a chair beside me and pulled out her notepad.

"Just out of curiosity, how did you and your husband meet?"

"We first met in high school. I was sixteen and he was seventeen," I replied.

"Was there anything in particular that stood out to you?"

"His eyes. I could never forget the first time I saw them. They were so intense and vibrant... so deep. And it wasn't just his eyes that made me fall for him. He was kind and humorous, and very protective. I didn't learn that about him until we started dating."

"How long did you date before you decided to get married?"

"We dated for six years; during our last two years of high school and throughout college. Then, at graduation when I was accepting my diploma, he came up onstage and asked me to marry him in front of all those people. Everyone was shocked, including his parents because even they had no idea that he planned to propose. But out of all the gifts I received that day, none of them could measure up to becoming engaged to the man of my dreams."

"That's very sweet. How did he react once he found out that you were pregnant for the first time?" she questioned.

"We weren't even married a few months before I realized that something was out of the ordinary. I can't even describe how stunned and excited he was about my pregnancy. Before I told him I was terrified of his reaction, but I knew that I had nothing to worry about once he began calling every relative of ours he knew. I just knew that he was going to make an amazing father," I said.

"Once your daughter was born, how did your lives become then?"

Without hesitation, I grinned to myself and replied, "Before Leah was born I didn't think that my life could become any more incredible than it already was, but once I laid eyes on this precious little girl—with my smile and his eyes, my life was truly complete. Everything about her was wonderful. We'd fallen in love all over again. He cried and I cried... We both hoped for our first child to be a girl and we got our wish. Raising her was the best 14 years of my life."

Smiling fondly, Julia could see that the past was now a place I escaped to whenever I was missing my former life, when my daughter and I was safe, healthy, and most importantly, happy.

In the corner of the room, the quiet shuffle of a blanket caught our attentions. Leah was awake, and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I know what you do to me when I'm asleep. I can feel you playing with my hair and kissing my face, and I hear you whispering things to me that you would never tell anyone else," she said while stepping closer.

At the same time, I was also on the verge of tears.

"Oh, really? What do you know about me?"

"When you were growing up in Mexico, you once took care of a cat without Grandma knowing, because she's terrified of them. And when you were nine, you had your first kiss with a guy named Julian. You liked him because he told you that you were his _'Lunita.'" _

As my daughter climbed into the bed beside me, I gently brushed the curls away from her eyes and brought her closer to me.

"What else, _mi Princesa?"_ I whispered.

"I know that you've never loved anyone or anything more than you love me. You understand me, Mama. You know what I love, what I hate; what I'm afraid of. And after all those years of listening to your own confessions, I realized that there's only one thing you've always wanted out of life... And it's me."

No longer able to deny my feelings, I smiled as a relieved sob rose from my throat.

"Of course it's you. Why do you think I work so hard? Why do you think I make mistakes or panic for no reason? Why do you think I'm still alive? I do these things for you, Leah. All I've ever wanted for you was a happy, struggle-free life. But after this past year I feel like I'm a failure because..."

"No, don't ever say that, Mama. You're not a failure; you never were. I'm happy because I can say that the most loving, incredible, strongest person I've ever met is my mother. And we have to struggle along the way because it'll only make us closer. I've never felt closer to you than at this very moment. I love you more than you'll ever know. And you have no idea how terrifying it is right now, telling you what I've always wanted to say."

"Why are you afraid, _Nena?_ Tell me."

"I don't know. I've never told you how I truly felt because I was scared that I wasn't good enough for you."

Feeling slightly heartbroken, I wanted to know why my own daughter thought that she did not meet my standards.

"Baby, how could you ever think that you aren't good enough for me? You're my daughter. Not only do I love you; you're my everything. I'm not expecting you to go above and beyond just to please me, because seeing you right here, safe and alive, is enough to put a smile on my face," I replied lovingly.

Leah couldn't seem to stop sobbing as I guided her head against my chest, and engulfed her in my arms.

I couldn't imagine the weight that was lifted from my daughter's shoulders once she finally built the courage to express her true feelings for me. Now that the truth was out, I became at peace with myself because I knew that I'd succeeded in raising her.

Once a few minutes had passed and we'd floated back down to earth, I remembered the detective sitting near my bedside.

Releasing a soft laugh, I wiped the last of my tears and said, "I'm sorry. We forgot all about you."

"Oh-no, take as much time as you need. I'm not a therapist but I'll consider this as part of the healing process."

It was clear that my daughter wasn't ready to let go as she nestled her head between my breasts while letting out a content sigh. At that moment I felt that I needed to thank Julia for her patience and understanding.

"Thank you so much for giving us this time together. If it's okay with you, I'd like to spend the rest of the morning with my daughter. Maybe you can come back later and we can continue," I offered gently.

Finding no problem with my request, Julia nodded silently and sent me a brief wave before disappearing through the doors. Once she was gone, I tightened my grip around Leah and buried my nose into her hair.

"I love you, Sweetheart... You have no idea how much I do."

Soon enough, my daughter lifted her head and managed a shy grin.

"I love you, too," she replied tiredly.

"You still look a little sleepy to me. Do you want to take another nap next to Mama?"

"Yes. Can you play with my hair?" she asked. "That always makes me fall asleep faster."

As if to confirm my answer, I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Nothing would make me happier."

**~WYLS~**

**Later That Morning**

Nearly an hour after my daughter had fallen back asleep, I remained combing my fingers through her silky curls. It seemed as though I was still in a trance following our dramatic rescue, and my husband's arrest.

It angered me to think that Troy realized what he had done after the traumatic incident. He could have stopped when he was forcing my daughter into his room with the intent of raping her. He could've stopped when I threatened to kill him. But he didn't.

I had to take four inches of steel into my abdomen for him to finally wake up from his drunken trance. Fortunately, he didn't learn the hard way.

Surviving my stab wound may have shortened his sentence by about 30 years. However, no matter how long Troy would be locked up, it would never compensate for the emotional and mental scars that my daughter and I walked away with.

Leah in particular suffered nightmares with various scenarios, each more crippling than the last. Going to a therapist was the last thing she wanted to do, especially because she knew that she would have to recall every graphic detail of her father's abuse.

But if a professional could assist her in the healing process, it was something to be considered.

"Gabriella? Are you awake, Sweetie?" my mother-in-law whispered as she poked her head through the door.

"Yes, I'm awake. Come in."

Tentatively, the parents of my husband stepped into my room equipped with several bouquets of flowers. Lindsay cooed once she found Leah asleep on my lap, and quickly made her way over to my bedside.

"Good morning, Gabi. How are you doing today?" David asked.

"I'm feeling much better, David."

"Um, we bought some flowers for you and Leah at the floral market down the block. I hope you like them," Lindsay said almost nervously.

As I glanced between my parents-in-law, it was clear that they felt somewhat responsible for the crimes their son had committed. They thought that I would blame them because of their relation to him.

Eagerly, I brought the beautiful pink roses against my nose and inhaled their sweet scent.

"I love them. Thank you so much."

After a few moments of silence, Lindsay soon took a seat beside me and grasped my hand. "If there is anything,_ anything_ that we can do to help, please let us know. It's no trouble at all."

"I will, Lindsay. But don't feel like you have to make up anything to me because of what Troy did. You and David have been nothing but loving, supportive and generous for all of these years, and I want you to stay that way because you love us," I reassured gently.

I knew that my mother-in-law was on the verge of tears by the way her lips began to tremble.

"What possessed my son to do this to you? You and Leah of all people never deserved the kind of treatment he gave you. He could've killed you without us even knowing."

"I don't know. But all I can tell you is that the man who's been hurting us this past year was not Troy."

That was when Lindsay reached out and gently traced her finger against my daughter's cheek.

"My poor granddaughter. Her father was supposed to protect her from bad people, but now he_ is_ one of them," she sobbed.

"This is unbelievable. It's like all the lessons I taught him about being a great husband and father have gone to waste. I've never been so disappointed in my life," David said as he folded his arms together, clearly frustrated.

"I understand your anger. First he was promising us the world and now... well, look at where we are. I thought that I was going to spend the rest of my life without worrying about getting hurt, but I guess that's what I get for taking our marriage for granted."

"No, Gabriella. You did nothing wrong. He ruined your lives by choice because he could've stopped himself, but chose not to. I never thought I'd say this, but I don't think I can ever forgive my son for what he's done," Lindsay stated.

Meanwhile, I felt my daughter's grip slowly tightening around my clothes. While her grandparents continued expressing their disappointment for their son, I began to realize that she was murmuring in her sleep. Although Leah's eyes remained shut, they quickly began to squeeze tighter and tighter. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breaths escaped in sharp exhales.

Soon enough, they also noticed what was happening to her, and paused to observe her. Whatever she was dreaming about was apparently growing worse with each passing second.

"Stop... Please stop," she whimpered softly.

"What's she saying?"

"Listen," I said.

By letting them experience how traumatic my daughter's dreams had been reduced to, I hoped that they would understand just how big of an impression her father left behind. Obviously having a horrific nightmare, she began to sob while her palm moved up to grip her stomach.

"Please, it hurts... Stop... Stop, Daddy, please..."

Their faces soon grew pale once they realized what she was dreaming about. Without warning, Leah released a terrible scream, which caught the attention of someone approaching the door. My mother and a few other relatives burst in thinking that someone was hurt.

"Is everyone okay in here?"

"It's Leah. She's having a nightmare."

"Well, wake her up! She's practicality suffering."

Hoping to put an end to her anguish, I quickly worked to calm her down.

"Wake up, baby. Mama's here. Wake up," I gently spoke into her ear.

But it was as if Leah was almost trapped in her dreams. Soon, my mother and my in-laws scrambled to wake her up while she continued to shriek louder and louder.

"_Daddy!" _

"Here, let me try," my brother-in-law Matthew suggested calmly, and stepped forward to take a seat on the bed.

If it weren't for his dirty-blonde hair and smaller build, he would have been an exact replica of Troy.

As if to cradle a baby, he wrapped his arms around her torso and rocked her back and forth. At first it seemed like his efforts were going to be wasted. But eventually, her cries softened and she slowly began to relax.

"You're okay, Princess. He's not here to hurt you. Not anymore," he whispered.

Once the nightmare seemed to go away and my daughter was freed from the trance, we watched as her eyes slowly blinked open. However, we didn't anticipate that she would overreact when she glanced up to find her uncle gazing down at her.

Without giving her eyes time to adjust, she gasped loudly and pushed herself out of his grip.

"Get away from me!" she cried before colliding with a nearby table.

Before she could attempt to escape, her meltdown ceased in its tracks once she realized that the past few minutes were nothing but a nightmare. Though she was sweating profusely and trembling violently, my daughter was clearly relieved.

With the realistic dream still imbedded in her thoughts, she crouched against the wall and dropped her head between her knees. Even as my mother, Lindsay, David and Matthew attempted to comfort her, she didn't want to be touched by any of them.

The only person she wanted was me.

Ignoring the sting of my bandaged wound, I carefully swept the sheets aside and prepared to stand. In my weakened condition, I relied on my family to help me to my feet.

Leah burst into tears once again as I knelt beside her on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I thought that he was..."

"Shh, there's no need to apologize. We completely understand. Are you okay?" I asked.

"No. He finally caught up to me and dragged me into his room. The pain was horrible and he kept on going and going. It was so real, and there was so much blood. No matter how much I begged, he just wouldn't stop until..."

"You're fine,_ Nena_. He's not here; he can't hurt you anymore," I gently reassured my daughter.

"Yes, he can. In my dreams," she sobbed.

As I established a firm grip on Leah, I turned to the group of relatives and shrugged wordlessly.

I had never intended for them to see my daughter at her worst, but if there was any consolation they would soon discover the extent of the damage Troy caused us, especially to her. Because of him, it was going to be months until she could turn her back on even the most trusted men of her family. I hoped that their desire to gain her trust back would make her realize that unlike her father, they had no intention of hurting her.

**Lend me your feedback as always and I'll try to get a new one out as soon as I can. Thanks!**


	18. Fearless

**Hey guys I know that it's been a loooong time since I've updated and the reason for that was because I was simply stuck. Trust me, I always know what I want to write about, but sometimes getting my thoughts out on paper can be very difficult at times. Apparently I remarkably came out of my slump yesterday, and I was supposed to post then but the power went out and I didn't save the ending grrr -_-'... **

**Phew, anyway I honestly didn't think that this was my best work but please read and tell me what you think. Thanks for your ongoing support! **

**Chapter 18: Fearless**

**Gabriella**

Although it was going to be another week until my release from the hospital, I quickly found out that my daughter and I were expected to be present at my husband's trial.

Of course, we were surprised because we never anticipated him to appear in court several days after his arrest. How the American justice system worked I would never understand.

My only hope once Troy would be locked away was that Leah would start to feel a sense of security again. As we made the excursion from the hospital to the courthouse that morning, it was clear that she was anxious about seeing her father.

The last time she looked into his eyes, he was holding an expressionless stare while thrusting a blade towards her heart. I knew that for her, it was going to be a traumatic reunion.

"How are you holding up, Gabi? Does your side hurt still?" my mother asked; ready to tend to my every need.

"A little bit. I might need some help getting out of the car because I can't stretch."

Seemingly nervous herself, she offered a gentle smile and fixed the curls going down my back.

"Okay. We will help you, then."

Everyone riding in the vehicle with me nearly panicked as I suddenly gasped in pain.

"What's wrong, _mijita?"_

"I'm fine, Papa. The baby is just moving near the scar," I winced.

A collective sigh of relief arose in the vehicle before settling back down to silence. Each person returned to their own thoughts, which probably displayed various predicted scenarios of likely expectations or outcomes of the trial. Just like me they probably wondered how my husband looked or how much he had changed; and they probably wondered what me or my daughter were going to say when it was time to testify against Troy.

Little did my family know that whatever expectations they had about that trial were going to exceed their wildest fears. They were simply not prepared to listen to the accounts of pain, fear and humiliation that my daughter and I were going to recall.

Waiting patiently at the entrance of the courthouse was Troy's family. Once the chauffeur opened my side of the car, relatives on both sides came rushing to help me. Though I was very grateful for their support, I hated being the center of attention.

"Thank you," I said quietly before Detective Hernandez escorted me into the building.

While my parents accompanied Leah, she remained as silent as she had been for most of the morning. If she didn't feel like speaking to her own flesh and blood, I doubted that she would be willing to speak to a jury of 12 strangers.

Most of the relatives had already occupied seats in the designated courtroom, chatting quietly to pass the time until the judge arrived. Eventually, a bailiff appeared to let us know that the session was about to start.

"All rise for His Honor!" he then announced.

From the door at the front of the courtroom emerged the judge, who quietly spoke with the bailiff before taking his seat.

"Good morning, I'm Judge Baldwin. This trial is now in session. You may take your seats."

We watched as he was handed a folder of documents and briefly looked over them.

"To my understanding this is case #32,894 in the district of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Gabriella Bolton and Leah Bolton will be testifying against Suspect 15698, Troy Bolton. Bailiff, you may now bring in the suspect," he said.

With a quick nod, the bailiff and another officer wandered into another room on the left side of the courtroom. Relatives craned their necks and leaned forward to get a better view. Meanwhile I sensed that my daughter and my parents-in-law were not going to be as eager to see him.

The murmurs of excitement stopped immediately once my husband was led into the courtroom. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and his hair was cut short. Last but not least, the accessory that was locked around his wrists gleamed under the bright florescent lights. But if that was not enough to send chills up my spine, it was the stony, empty gaze he held while going up to face the judge.

Following them was a man in a suit, presumably his designated attorney.

"Mr. Bolton, you are here due to accusations of drug use and aggravated domestic violence. Is that true?"

Calmly, Troy put his lips close to the microphone and said, "Yes, Your Honor."

"Today's hearing will consist of personal testimonies provided by the victims of this case and will help me and the jury determine if the suspect is innocent or guilty as a result of his crimes. Let's begin."

That was when my attorney strode to the front of the courtroom and glanced between Leah and I. Beforehand, she didn't let us know who was going to be speaking first, but soon it was clear that she wanted to catch the attention of the judge right away.

When her gaze didn't settle on me, I saw the blood drain from my daughter's face.

"Will Leah Mireya Bolton please approach the bench?"

Without a word, she shrunk into her seat and gripped my hand.

"It's okay, Sweetie. Don't be nervous," I whispered to her.

"I... I can't. He's right there."

"I know he is, but they need you to tell your side of the story. He can't get to you with all these bailiffs around. I'll be right here, I promise. Go ahead, Leah."

Giving me a wary stare, my daughter slowly rose to her feet and took a seat beside the judge.

"Thank you, Leah," he said graciously.

"Good morning, Leah. How are you today?" the attorney began.

Apprehensively, she leaned towards the microphone, her eyes focused on her lap.

"Good morning. I-I'm fine, thank you."

"That's great to hear. Would you please place your left hand on the Bible and your right hand in the air?" she instructed.

After doing what she was told, my daughter took a deep breath and prepared to take the oath.

"Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you, God?"

"I do," she replied.

She didn't dare look at Troy.

"Good. Now, all I want is for you to answer whatever questions I may ask about the past year and tell us exactly what happened. Do you think that you can do that?"

"Yes."

"All right, then. How was your childhood? Would you say that it was great?"

"Yes, it was. I don't remember it ever being disappointing," she said.

"In what way?"

"Well, I wasn't spoiled growing up, but I tried to be as good as possible. That way whatever I asked my parents for something, I would get it immediately."

"Oh? What kinds of things did your parents give you specifically?" the woman asked.

"All kinds of things. They once bought me this Barbie Dream House that I wanted, a puppy for my third birthday, and they took me to Disney World at least twice before... Come to think of it, I probably _was _spoiled."

Even the judge cracked a grin as most people chuckled to themselves.

"Of course, you weren't spoiled in a bad way."

"Not at all. My mother taught me to appreciate the things I had because there were kids in other countries who didn't have any toys to play with like I did. She also taught me to share with others who had less than me," Leah said before sending me a fleeting grin.

"How was it growing up with your father? Was he a good father?"

"Yes. He was a great father. When I was born, he was excited because he'd always wanted a daughter."

"What kinds of things did he do that made him a great father?" my attorney asked.

"Well, even though he was working full-time he always found time for me. He'd come to my school plays and dance recitals, always holding a video camera in his hands. Whenever I was scared or upset he would be the first one to comfort me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. My mother never had to work after marrying him, because he didn't want her to lift a finger. He just wanted to come home after work and spend time with us."

"He sounds like a great father, indeed. But you had to have disagreements with him, right?"

"Of course," Leah replied.

"About what?"

"Well, the only thing that made life a little difficult for me was that he was extremely overprotective. He would monitor my diet, my health, what I did at home or in school. Everything to him was a threat. To make sure that I didn't fall out of bed, he put barriers around the mattress and he kept the childproof locks around the house for years because he was afraid that I would've accidentally swallowed whatever was in the cabinets. Whenever I took a bath he would sit right there to make sure that I wouldn't drown in those few inches of water. At first I didn't really notice because I thought that he was doing what Dads do. But it didn't start getting unbearable until I started to hit puberty."

"Ahh, because now you were now becoming a teenager. Things become a lot more serious when you're no longer a little kid."

"Yeah. That was when he started talking to me about how dangerous the world could be, especially for a teenage girl. He told me that boys my age and older only wanted one thing from me, and when I asked him, he gave me 'The Talk.' It was the most embarrassing thing I'd ever had to go through."

"I'm assuming that he didn't let you out of his sight?"

"Definitely. He became even more protective, and the constant monitoring got so bad that I couldn't even go home without being questioned about my day. I felt like I was being suffocated."

"But you do know why your father was doing the things he was doing, right?"

"Right. All he wanted to do was to protect me from people who could hurt me, and he taught me everything about protecting myself from harm. He taught me well because now I know that just about anyone can hurt me," Leah said, and finally, without fear, looked directly at her father.

Troy, on the other hand, was stunned.

With a quiet nod, my attorney circled the bench and prepared to ask another set of questions.

"Hmm. Before the first incident, did your father ever show signs of aggression?" she asked.

"Not at all. He was always careful and gentle around us. I personally think that he was afraid of hurting me when I was a kid."

"Take us back to the night when you realized that something was different about your father. Tell us as much as you can remember."

"Well, he was probably almost a month into his new job and he seemed really excited about it. Lately he and my mom were having some disagreements but it was nothing more than that. There was this staff party that he was going to in the city and he kind of left in a huff. My mom was so angry that she planned to make him sleep on the couch when he came back. While he was gone we spent the rest of the night watching movies on the couch."

"What time did he get home?"

"It was after 1:00 in the morning, and my mom got up to answer the door. I didn't think that anything was wrong until I heard her shouting at him. It was the first time I ever saw him drunk. And I think that he was a little high, too. She found a tiny bag filled with drugs in his jacket, and she was furious," Leah replied.

"And what did he say to her in response?"

"At first, nothing. But at one point he told her to shut up, and that was it for her. When he tried to go upstairs, she blocked him and tried to ask him where he got the drugs from."

"Did he answer her?"

Although I could not see her hands, I knew that my daughter was fidgeting where she was sitting. I couldn't imagine the memories she had to uncover to return to that terror-filled night.

"No, he didn't say anything. He just slapped her in the face," she replied plainly, which caused the gallery and the jury to murmur.

"What ran through your mind as you watched your father strike your own mother?"

"Fear and shock. When she hit the ground and started crying, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even move."

"What did you do after that?"

"Nothing. We just got back on the couch and held each other all night. We were too scared to fall asleep, so we stayed up for the rest of the night."

"Interesting. Can you explain to me what happened the next morning? Did he have any recollection of the night before?"

"No, and I only knew that because at one point I accidentally broke his coffee mug and he didn't try to hit me. He was confused when I ran away from him," Leah replied.

"Did you or your mother tell him what happened?"

"No, because we didn't want him to know at first. He would've been so devastated if he knew how bad he hurt my mom... But now that I think of it, maybe we wouldn't be here if we did tell him."

Once the blur of that night became clearer to Troy, he slowly sunk into his seat and held his palm against his face in disappointment. Now he knew.

"Hm. So I can only assume that it was not very long after the first incident that he started using drugs on a daily basis. Did he continue to hit your mother?" she pressed.

"Yes."

"Did he beat her?"

"Yes," my daughter replied with a brief shudder. "The first time he really beat her bad was because she took me to dance class without his permission. After class he found us, took us home and... it was horrible."

"Can you tell us what happened that evening?"

"As soon as we got home he punished my mom severely, and by the time he was finished she could barely get up. I didn't want to believe that it was real, but it was and we were trapped," she said blankly.

"Did you and your mother contemplate escaping?"

"Of course we did. But it seemed so difficult leaving everything we knew and everyone we loved. So we didn't try to leave."

"As your father's punishments grew worse, what kind of things would he force you or your mother to do?" the attorney questioned.

"All kinds of things. He loved to treat us like slaves, and he made us wait on him. My mom was responsible for making sure that his needs were satisfied at all times, and I had to put on his shoes for him every day."

"He made you put on his shoes?"

"Yes. And while he stood above me he'd tell me that I was stupid or worthless. Things like that," Leah said.

"Also, he loved playing these awful games with us. There was this one he would play with my mom by telling her to do something a certain way, then he'd yell that she did it wrong just to punish her."

"Did he punish you as well?"

"Not yet. The most he was doing at that point was pushing me around. My mom was terrified of watching him hurt me, so she managed to protect me as much as she could. But that didn't last very long."

"No?"

"One day when we were home, she was sleeping upstairs and he was in the living room. By then he was smoking drugs along with taking the pills. He told me to wake her up so that she could make him dinner, but when I went to open the bedroom door it was locked. Also, she couldn't hear me because the TV was playing so loudly. I knew that it was a matter of time before he lost his patience, and when he did it was too late to warn her."

"Did you let your father know that she was sleeping?"

"Of course I did. But he didn't listen to me; he just pushed me down and broke into the room. My mom couldn't understand why she was being punished when he woke her up with a punch to the face," Leah explained with a plain shrug.

"I'm sure you wanted to help your mother. Did you try to do something?"

"At first I was a little hesitant because he wouldn't stop, but she didn't deserve to be punished for no reason at all. And it was the worst beating by far. He dragged her out of bed and started kicking her, so I grabbed his wrists to stop him."

"And what did he do?"

That was when, for the second time, she looked my husband right in the eyes.

"He turned on me."

As my disbelieving parents gazed at me to clarify, I only nodded in silence.

"What was it like being brutalized by your father?"

"It was painful. First he hit me in the nose with his elbow and then he started beating me like he did to her. My mother saw what happened and tried to pull him off of me. Eventually she jumped on his back and fought him, but..."

"But what?"

"She didn't last very long. He got even angrier and began throwing her body all over the room. Then he pinned her against the floor and crushed her wrist with his shoe," she said while everyone broke into murmurs yet again.

"So you're saying that he broke it."

"Yes."

"What did he do after that?"

"He kicked her one more time and left the room. We both knew that he wasn't going to let her go to the hospital, so I did my best to give her relief. I made a temporary splint to keep her wrist from moving, and gave her an ice pack to put on it."

"Wow," my attorney exhaled. "Besides the physical aspect of the abuse you received, did your father abuse any of you in a sexual manner?"

"Well, he started raping my mom after a while, but that was about it."

"What about you?"

By then the entire courtroom had their attention completely fixated on my daughter. As the questions dove deeper into the subject of sexual abuse, Leah grew more uncomfortable. Her eyes began to shift again, no longer able to focus on anyone.

"Um, he used to make comments at me," she answered.

"What kind of comments?"

"Gross comments about my body. H-he would watch me while I was doing chores or tying his shoes. At one point he was trying to make me kiss him but I threw up on purpose to distract him. I remember him telling me one day that no one was allowed to take my virginity but him."

Shocked, some members of the gallery and the jury exclaimed in disgust. My mother-in-law Lindsay was on the verge of having a meltdown. Meanwhile, Troy hardly looked remorseful.

"Did he ever attempt to rape you?"

"Yes... several times," came the sharp exhale.

"When did the first attack occur?"

"It happened the same day he broke my mom's wrist. A while later he came back and told her to get dressed. He was planning to send her to the hospital to get treatment."

"He was? Wasn't he concerned about getting caught?"

"No, because he knew that she was too afraid to call for help, especially since he was making her go without me. She caught a cab and left without knowing why he suddenly sent her out. But I knew the real reason. It was so that she wouldn't be there to stop him from raping me."

"Did he go after you as soon as she left?"

"No. He made it into a game. For at least an hour I was cleaning the kitchen, freaking out that he was going to ambush me from behind. He was letting me get eaten by my own fear just to tire me out. And when he asked me to bring him a beer another time, he grabbed me."

"He grabbed you? And did what?"

"He was trying to make me kiss him again. I quickly pulled away and he started chasing me, but he wasn't fast enough because he was so drunk. I ran upstairs to look for a hiding spot. If I found a good place to hide and stayed there long enough, he would've given up eventually. At first I was planning to hide in the attic because me and my mom hid there once before. But the door was stuck and I couldn't get it down. He was getting closer and I didn't know where else to go except for underneath my bed. So I hid there before he came into my room."

"Were you scared?"

"I was terrified. My mom wasn't there to save me and he was determined to get it over with before she came back. When he found me and pulled me from under the bed, I looked down and saw how much he wanted me. The worst part was that it wasn't the first time I saw... that," she whimpered.

Now, we were all confused. Was there something my daughter knew that we didn't?

Suddenly, she looked at me and cried, "I'm sorry, Mama. I should've told you what happened at Jenny's house last year."

"It's okay, Leah. Just tell the attorney what happened," I said calmly.

Wiping her tears, my daughter turned back to the woman to explain.

"A few months before my dad got into drugs, I had this friend named Jenny and she was 15. To all the adults she was the perfect role model for younger kids like me, but in high school she was popular for hooking up with guys older than her. I knew more than anyone else because she was my best friend, but I never told my parents. If they knew what she was really like, especially my dad, I never would've been able to see her again."

"So what does this girl Jenny have to do with your father's attempt?"

"Well, one day I convinced my dad to sleep over at Jenny's house overnight. He trusted her father enough to let me go, even though Jenny's brother was going to have his older friends over. Of course, Mr. Pérez also had no idea that his daughter was promiscuous so he didn't suspect a thing. He thought that the boys were going to spend the night in the basement while we were going to stay upstairs. I think around 3:00 in the morning Jenny's dad came in and told her that he needed to respond to an emergency at the hospital. He's a surgeon, so he has to leave whenever his beeper goes off. When he left, she got out of bed and put on some makeup. She thought that I was asleep but I was wide awake. I got curious so I followed her."

"Where was she going? What was she going to do?" my attorney questioned.

"She came back with one of her brother's friends and took him into the den. He was probably 18 or 19. She took off her pajamas and showed him the lingerie that she was wearing. Then they, um, had sex on the couch. I didn't really see anything because the back of the couch was in the way, but when they decided to move into another room, that was when I saw it. The boy was completely naked and that was the first time I saw what it looked like. And I was frightened because it looked like it could hurt me."

"What do you mean?"

"People make sex seem so fun but it seems so scary. Seeing that made me want to go back to bed. As soon as they left the room, I went in the opposite direction to go back to her bedroom. But I bumped into someone."

"Who was it?"

"Another boy. This one looked even older, and his shirt was off and he smelled like cigarettes. He told me that I was beautiful and asked me if I wanted to join them. For a second I thought that he was going to grab me and take me with him, and I ran instead of answering him. The next morning when Jenny introduced me to him, I saw something in his pants and I realized that he wanted me... just like my father wanted me a few months later."

My attorney stepped forward, ready to offer words of comfort before my daughter would suffer a terrible breakdown. But to my surprise she didn't cry.

Instead, she suddenly rose from her seat and promptly approached her father. Concerned, the gallery began to shift uncomfortably as Leah placed her hands against the table and gazed directly into his eyes.

"Why did you do it, Papa? What did we ever do to you to deserve this kind of punishment? I always hoped that our relationship would be different but I never imagined testifying against you in court. All I want to know is why you decided to throw your life, and us, away," she said gently.

Fearing an outburst from Troy, the attorney carefully guided her a few feet back. Remarkably, he said nothing, but slowly sat back in his seat with an empty stare. His silence only made my daughter more upset.

"You really don't care, do you? Fine. If you don't need us anymore, then I guess we don't need you."

To everyone else in that courtroom, Leah must have looked like a hero standing up to her father. But between the three of us, it was clear that she was terrified. No one knew her more than her own father. He calmly leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table.

"Of course you need me. You can go ahead and try to live your life but you know that you're nothing without me. I control you, remember? No matter how much you think you don't need me, you will always need me. I'll see you tonight, Angel."

Chills raced up my spine at the dreadful smile he gave my daughter.

Leah could have chosen to buckle right then and there, but she was determined to show him that he would never have control over her for as long as he lived. She knew that two could play that game.

Once again she planted her hands in front of him and daringly hunkered down to his level.

"Not even in my dreams, Troy Bolton."

Not much occurred after that. Members of the jury, the gallery; even the judge were rendered silent by the girl's boldness.

Then, Leah simply stood back and said, "I'm done testifying, Judge Baldwin."

Her reply seemed to extract the judge from his trance, and he quickly cleared his throat.

"Well, uh, it looks like we are out of time for today. We will continue testimonies starting with Mrs. Gabriella Bolton. This court is adjourned until tomorrow," he announced before banging the gavel.

At his command the bailiff promptly fastened Troy's handcuffs and escorted him out of the room. His threatening gaze never faltered against his daughter's, but she could have cared less.

"I'm really proud of you, Leah. You stood there and told him that you weren't his puppet. He's not in control anymore and he knows it. Good job, _Nena,"_ I praised.

"Thanks for being there for me. You haven't broken a promise to me yet."

"And I never will, Leah. I promise."

As we strolled through the lobby of the courthouse, my daughter wrapped her arms around me as far as my growing stomach would allow. She rest her head in the crook of my neck, sighing in contentment. I cradled the other side of her head with my free arm and planted a kiss against her temple.

That was when I knew that everything was going to be all right.

**If any of you would like to add me on Facebook, feel free to send me a friend request. I think I have only one of my readers as a friend and her username is AddyD90 (luv ya, girl). Just go to the search box and type in "Ayanna Wade," and in my profile pic I'm wearing a white tube top, a green leaf belt and a red grass skirt and lei. Before you add me please let me know on your reviews or inbox me on FF so that I won't ignore it; because I tend to reject friend requests from people I don't know. So please let me know. Also, you can also add me on **_**Draw Something**_** because I just love that game!**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling. What did you think of Leah's testimony? What did you think of her last word to her father? Please review. It would really mean a lot. Thanks! :D**


	19. All Over

**Hey guys, I am so, so, SO very sorry for this super late update. You guys know how it is with me and school. Personally, I will be so happy when I don't have to attend school ever again. I just have to get through the next three years of college. I have been so busy with two _stupid _research papers while trying to brainstorm for my stories. It didn't quite work out, as you can see. I should finish these papers within the next two weeks or less because the semester will be over by then. I hope you guys didn't think that I abandoned this story because I will NEVER think of doing that. Anyway, thank you so much to those who put up with me this whole time. This one's for you! :)**

**Chapter 19: All Over**

**Leah**

_While my mother slept peacefully in her bed, I sat awake in the guest pullout, unable to sleep. It was not because I was scared or upset. I just couldn't seem to fall asleep. _

_Out of boredom I had resorted to counting the steady beeps of her heart monitor. Its bright blue glow was difficult to ignore, and I watched intently as the rhythm moved up and down, over and over again. After an hour I had counted over 3,000 of those monotonous beeps, and I was quickly losing interest at listening to my mother's heart. _

_When I rose from my bed and approached her, I discovered that my unborn brother was also having trouble sleeping. Beneath the thin blanket I could see his tiny elbow or foot poking through her stomach. It was a miracle that she remained asleep through all that tumbling. At least they were safe. _

_Eventually, I began to think about what she had confessed to me the week before. I felt wonderful learning that she was not only in love with me, but that she was infatuated with me. That made me wonder what kinds of emotions she felt whenever she watched me sleep. Perhaps it still hadn't registered that I was her daughter, and that I belonged to her after all those years. I could only guess that never in her wildest dreams did she think that she would become a mother. What an overwhelming sense of joy and affection she must have experienced the moment I was born. She probably wanted to give me the world and more. _

_As her daughter, I could never begin to imagine the heartache she felt watching me suffer at the hands of my father. Seeing me in pain caused her even more pain. It was that passion and drive for me that compelled her to take me away from that awful home. It was love that compelled her to throw herself over me so that I wouldn't end up with four inches of steel through my heart. For risking her life to save mine I would forever be indebted to her. _

_As I stood over my sleeping mother, I brushed the few strands of hair away from her face to observe her. She was so beautiful; so perfect. To that very day I still found it hard to believe that she was my mother. Although I couldn't pick my parents, I felt so lucky to have someone who understood me better than I could. She was kind, charismatic, passionate and brave. Best of all, she would never quit on me. If only she knew what I'd do for her. _

_"I love you," I whispered into her ear, and kissed her on the cheek. _

_A few minutes later, I suddenly felt thirsty. I quickly left her side hoping not to miss a thing. There was a water fountain right outside the room, and although I knew that the nurses didn't allow children in the corridor after a certain time, I figured that I could get a drink before anyone caught me._

_Through the frosted glass panes I watched as a nurse walked past the room, and waited until I was sure that she was out of sight. I slowly turned the handle and stepped into the chilly corridor. While looking left and right, I crossed to the other side and grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser. The coolness of the water felt great on my hand as it splashed while streaming from the thin nozzle. With my mission completed, I quickly spun around and tiptoed back into the room. _

_Something seemed to be missing once I had returned. The heart monitor my mother was attached to was no longer beeping. Instead, it was off. Perhaps the noise had finally gotten to her, and she reached over to shut it off. She knew that her vitals were okay. But was she allowed to do that? _

_"Mama," I whispered. _

_Thinking that she couldn't hear me, I moved to where she could see me and gently shook her shoulder. _

_"Mama, I don't think you're supposed to turn it off." _

_She didn't even stir. Even the baby proved to be a heavy sleeper. _

_"Mama," I called louder. _

_As I paused to see if she would move, that was when I realized that something was very wrong. She wasn't moving at all. _

_"Mama? Wake up, Mommy. Wake up!" _

_The more I shook her, the more desperate I became. _

_"Wake up, Mama! This isn't funny. Wake up!" I cried. _

_Stricken with panic, I turned the lights on only to discover a horrific sight. The blankets that covered her body were stained with blood. When I glanced at my hands I realized that they were stained as well. Hoping to get help, I opened the door and opened my mouth to scream. _

_Suddenly, I found myself being dragged back into the room by my hair. The monster who was responsible for killing my mother spun me around and revealed himself to me. It was my worst nightmare. _

_"I told you I would see you tonight," the menacing voice chuckled._

_"What did you do to her?!" _

_A chill climbed up my spine as he grabbed me by the neck and plucked me off of the floor. _

_"Come on, I'll show you." _

_I whimpered in protest while he pushed me towards her lifeless body, and attempted to avert my eyes from the gruesome sight. As if he was dealing with a piece of meat, he rolled my mother onto her back and pointed to the dark red blotch on the left side of her chest. _

_"I finished her like I wanted to finish you, except I let her suffer. She tried to scream for you but she couldn't. I slowly pushed the blade through her breast and into her heart. And I pushed it deeper and deeper until her eyes started bugging out of her head, and she began choking on her own blood..." _

_He simply paused once I collapsed to the floor and spilled the contents of my stomach. As I became hysterical with grief, he hauled me to my feet once again and pointed at her. _

_"Do you see what you made me do? If you weren't such a worthless little girl I wouldn't have to punish you like this. Look at what you did! Look at it!" _

_When I failed to obey him, he slammed me to the hard floor and pulled out the same blade from his pocket. _

_"Poor Leah. I hate to see you suffer like this. How about I put an end to your misery?" _

_Unable to escape, I pleaded for my life. But he was going to get his revenge once and for all. My eyes clouded with tears as he held the tip of the blade about a few inches away from my throat. Accepting that this was how I was going to die, I shut my eyes and braced for impact. I felt as his body jerked with thrust, and suddenly I felt numb. Remarkably, I was still able to manage one last dying scream as the air began to escape my body. _

_Suffocating was terrifying. I found myself rolling around on the cold floor, struggling to catch my breath. A hot moisture flowed from my neck like a stream of water. My body trembled and tensed as it began to shut down. The room was spinning, and all I could spot through my blurred vision were multiple pairs of shoes. _

_Help had arrived, but it was far too late._

_"Oh, my God, Leah!" _

Convinced that I was dying, I weakly lifted my head from the floor and searched for the distant voice. It did not occur to me that I had just suffered from another nightmare until I found people standing around me.

When I touched my neck, I was relieved to find out that I was sweating, not bleeding.

I saw the nurses and my grandparents, but not my mother.

From my perspective, all I could see were her feet, which weren't moving. Before I could jump up to see if she was okay, one of the nurses pinned me against the floor.

"Please don't make any sudden movements. You rolled out of the bed and hit your head on the floor. You may have to get treated for a concussion."

I didn't care. Using all the strength I had, I pried myself from her grip and rushed over to my mother's bedside.

"Mama?" I called, gingerly shaking her. "Mama, please wake up."

Almost immediately, her eyes began to flutter, and she smiled once she saw me.

_"Mi nena,"_ she whispered.

"Mommy!"

As I clung to her sobbing hysterically, she grew confused.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"H-he was here," I stammered.

"Who was here?"

"Dad. I went to get a drink of water and when I came back you were... dead. There was blood everywhere and you were so pale. He told me that he stabbed you through your heart while you were awake. And when he showed me, I threw up. Then, he held my head back and aimed the knife at my throat before killing me off too."

Without a word my mother held me tighter and rocked me back and forth.

"It was just a nightmare, Leah. Look at me; I'm fine. I'm never going to leave you," she promised gently.

"Are you okay? You fell out of bed and hit your head on the floor pretty hard," my grandmother said.

Once the pain set in, I rubbed the growing bump on my head and moaned.

"It hurts a little."

"Mrs. Bolton, if it's okay with you we would like to check your daughter to make sure that she hasn't sustained any injury from her fall."

"Of course you can..."

She paused as I whined and shook my head in protest, reluctant to leave her side.

"Or we could give her an ice pack to put on the bump," she same nurse suggested.

"I think she'd like that better. Thank you."

Once the group of nurses left the room, our relatives lingered to offer their support.

"This isn't fair. Even when we're miles apart, he still manages to ruin my life... I never made him do anything," I murmured.

"Wait, what?" my mother interjected. "You think that this is your fault?"

Too ashamed to respond, I only shrugged my shoulders.

"Tell me, Leah: What makes you think that your father's selfish addiction was your fault? You weren't the one who broke my wrist or stabbed me, or made our lives so miserable. This mess is his fault. He's out of our lives now. Don't continue to let him have control over you, because you'll never feel fully secure."

I remained silent as she pulled me into a long hug.

What my mother didn't know was that no matter how far apart I was from my father, he would always have control over me. In the courtroom I might have seemed unfazed by his threats, but in reality, nothing terrified me more than looking him in the eyes.

**~WYLS~**

**Gabriella**

"Will Gabriella Bolton please approach the bench?" my attorney announced the next day.

It was Day Two of testimonies and I felt not an ounce of anxiety considering the damage that had been inflicted on my daughter. The past week and a half proved to be an emotional roller coaster for Leah, and my immediate reaction was to seek revenge on the man who was responsible for creating this mess. If he thought that I was going to hold back, then he was gravely mistaken.

Something told me that he knew I wasn't afraid of him as I strode confidently to the bench. When I was instructed to take the oath, I looked him right in the eye and confirmed my promise.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bolton. How are you today?" Judge Baldwin asked politely.

"I'm doing much better, Your Honor. Thank you."

"That's great. Shall we begin?"

I took my seat and faced my attorney, more than ready to answer whatever questions she had for me.

"All right, Your Honor. Why don't we continue right where your daughter left off: the night her father tried to rape her. Did you suspect that anything was out of the ordinary when he let you leave the house?"

"Well, not at first. I thought that he was showing compassion for once by sending me out to receive medical attention. It was a very serious injury, and it would've gotten worse if I didn't get it treated."

"Wasn't he concerned that you would go to the authorities?" she questioned.

"Not at all. He was confident that I wouldn't tell because he knew that I was too scared. Plus, if I did tell and he found out, he probably would've taken his anger out on Leah. I didn't want her to be punished because of me," I said.

"Your daughter explained that prior to having your wrist broken, you became the target of a vicious attack for reasons you did not know. You must have been extremely battered."

"Of course I was. Both of my eyes were swollen, my nose was bleeding and the bruises I received was a result of being kicked and stomped on."

"How did you make it to the hospital?"

"I took a taxi. Before I left he told me that if anyone asked what happened to me, just tell them that I was robbed while jogging. At first, I thought about blackmailing him so that he would stop hurting us. But when he decided to make Leah stay with him, my only focus was to go out and get treated immediately so that I could return just as quickly."

"What did you do to convince people that you were attacked by a stranger instead of your husband?"

"I wore yoga pants, running shoes and a black hoodie. To make it appear as though I was robbed, left my wallet and cell phone at home. Also, I wore large sunglasses because I was self-conscious about people seeing my eyes," I said.

"When I got to the emergency room, there wasn't much activity going on. I think there was only about one or two other people in the waiting room."

"Did you stick to your husband's fabricated claim when you approached the front desk?"

"Yes."

"Why?" my attorney pressed.

"Because at the time, I didn't want to cause any trouble; not when I still felt that Troy could return to normal."

"Interesting. How long were you at the hospital?"

"I was there for almost an hour. They were able to get a nurse for me less than five minutes after I arrived, so service was pretty quick. For some reason, though, the nurse seemed to know there was something more to my story. Then she noticed some old bruises on my arm. Before she could jump to conclusions, I told her that I bruise easily and that I bumped into the walls when I was helping my parents move. I remember wanting to break down and tell her everything when she asked me if I was sure."

"Did you think that she would convince you to tell the truth?"

"I did, but she saw that I was in a fought situation, so she tried her best not to scare me off. She gave me her personal phone number and encouraged me to call her if I ever needed anything. Of course, I wasn't sure if I'd ever feel brave enough to call her for help, but I took it just in case. I needed to start planning an escape anyway."

"That was very generous of her. What was the name of the nurse who treated your injury?"

"Her name was Leticia Jiménez. She works at the Presbyterian Hospital," I said.

"At what point did you realize that something was wrong when you returned home?"

"I realized it as soon as possible. I heard Leah screaming from upstairs, and it was obvious that it wasn't a regular beating by the way Troy kept telling her to hold still. I could just hear the lust in his voice."

"What did you do?"

"Well, my first instinct was to run up there and try to pull him off of her. But I stopped myself and came up with another plan, and snuck up the stairs instead."

"Tell me, Mrs. Bolton: what went through your mind as you came across your husband sitting on top of your daughter, trying to rape her?"

"I was distraught and angry. Never in my life did I think that I would ever see such a disturbing sight. They were both half-naked. At that point, he had already removed her bra and other clothes and he was trying to get rid of her underwear. He was also stripped down to his boxers. But Leah fought with all she had even as he tried to beat her into submission. Unfortunately, she was losing fast."

"How did you manage to stop him?"

"I knew that I had to act fast, and the only solution I could think of was knocking him out. So I grabbed this glass lamp from my daughter's desk and hit him across the head with it. He went down immediately."

"What kind of damage did that inflict on him?"

"I left a huge gash across the back of his head, and blood was just pouring out of it. For a moment, I thought that I'd killed him," I said.

"What did you and your daughter do after that?"

"For me, that was the last incident. I decided right then and there that we had to escape. It didn't matter where we were going as long as he wouldn't be able to find us. We packed as much of our belongings as we could and took one of the cars. Since we needed some money, we went into his safe and took about $3,500 before leaving."

"You had to end up somewhere eventually. Where did you stop first?"

"Well, at first I just drove on the interstate because I didn't really know where to take my daughter. But after a few hours, we ended up in Pecos, Texas; about 200 miles away from Albuquerque. We stayed at a hotel for about a week then moved to another location," I said.

"Which was?"

"Arizona. Sedona, Arizona. That drive took about nine hours, and it was more difficult than usual because I had to drive with one hand. At first, we stayed in a hotel like we did the last time, but our money was starting to run out. Eventually I decided that settling there with Leah would be the best way to start over without worrying about being caught. I purchased a small one-bedroom studio and we quickly moved in. We could only afford basic things like a mattress, pillows and blankets, food, heat, plumbing—just until I found a new job. And I did. I got a job as a waitress and I did pretty well considering the fact that I haven't worked since high school."

"How long did you and your daughter live in Arizona?"

"For two months; until August. I considered sending Leah to the local middle school so that she could finish eighth grade and move onto high school."

"If you and your daughter were planning to take up permanent residency in the state of Arizona, then why are you back here in Albuquerque?" my attorney asked.

Once the gallery thought about her statement, they soon grew curious.

"Well, after my wrist healed and I got my cast removed. I took Leah to a Mexican heritage festival hoping to spend some time with her. We were there for most of the day, and while most people were starting to go home, we stayed to watch the concert that was being held. For some reason, I just got this overwhelming sense of doom. When I looked in the distance, I saw him."

"You saw your husband?"

"Yes, and I was stunned because I didn't think that he would find us. I immediately told Leah and we ran for the parking lot. Luckily, the crowd was still kind of thick, so we were able to get away without him seeing which direction we went. As soon as we got home, we locked the doors, kept the lights off and held each other on the mattress. Leah slept on me while I stayed awake to keep an eye out."

"Weren't you tired from spending all day doing activities?"

"Of course. To this day I still feel like I failed my daughter because I fell asleep. If only I wasn't so tired..." I said, my voice cracking.

"Please, tell us why you feel guilty for falling asleep."

Before I could completely lose my composure, I took a deep breath and bravely recalled that terrifying night.

"Around 5:00 in the morning, I woke up to get a blanket. The first thing I noticed was that Leah wasn't next to me. Before I started panicking, I saw that the bathroom was occupied, and I went back to bed thinking that it was her."

"Was it your daughter?"

"No, not at all. It was Troy."

"What did you think now that you were facing him?"

"I was terrified. I couldn't run no matter how much I wanted to. But then I realized something. While he was in my house, my daughter was nowhere to be found. She was gone. So I started asking him what he did to her. At first he didn't answer me, but then, he told me something that nearly ruined me completely."

"What exactly did he tell you?"

As I gazed at my daughter, I found that she had also become emotional. Only the two of us could imagine what it was like to fear the worst about a loved one. Only we knew how overwhelming and numbing it was to think that we were going to die.

"He told me that she was lying in the trunk of his car... in a bag. I thought that he had killed her, and that I was next," I whimpered.

"What was it like to think that your daughter was dead?"

"It was like I'd lost my reason to live. She's my baby and without her, there's no purpose for me. But I wasn't going to take his word for it. I just needed to see her for myself."

"So, what did you do?"

"I ran. I just ran as fast as I could through the door. Troy chased me all the way down to the first floor of the complex, and I really thought that I was going to get away. But then, I don't remember what happened next. He must have hit me in the head with a blunt object, and I went unconscious. When I woke up, I realized that I was also in the trunk of the car. My eyes were covered with a blindfold, there was tape covering my mouth, and my arms and legs were tied together. That was when I knew that I'd lost."

"Eventually, you must have figured out that your daughter wasn't really dead. When was that?"

"I found out as soon as he started driving. There were several things in the trunk that shifted around me, and I felt something soft against me. It was her, and she wasn't moving or making noise. At first I was scared to find out for myself, but when I felt brave enough, I got down the zipper to the bag I was in and unzipped hers. I could only get to her hand, so I squeezed it hoping that she would squeeze mine. She didn't wake up for several minutes, so I was very panicked. But eventually, she squeezed my hand back. You have no idea how happy and relieved I was to know that she was alive," I explained.

"I recall you mentioning that you tried to get rescued at one point during your capture."

"Yes, but it didn't work. We were in the trunk for at least five hours until the car stopped. He was stopped by the police, and from what I heard, he got a ticket. Getting the ticket was no problem to him, because he made the officer believe that he was speeding because he had to go home to watch the supposed birth of his daughter. While he had her occupied, I started kicking the door of the trunk hoping that the noise would catch her attention. He must've heard, because he turned on the engine to block out the sound. After she let him go, he drove for a few minutes and stopped the car. I knew that he was coming to punish me. It must've been somewhere deserted, because he pulled the trunk wide open and started threatening me. He said that I was going to get punished twice as hard as Leah. Even though I was scared, I was glad that she wasn't going to get hurt too badly."

"At what time did you return to your home in Albuquerque?"

"I don't quite remember, but it was sometime after 1:00 in the afternoon. That was the part I was dreading the most, even though we'd just been through a terrifying trip. We could just tell that he was after blood. Once he parked in the garage, he untied us and ordered us to get in the house. Leah was almost having a meltdown at the time, so I did my best to keep her calm. When we got inside, he didn't start punishing us immediately. He showed us what he had done to modify the house while we were gone."

"What did he do to modify the house?"

"He soundproofed the walls, took out all the doors in the bedrooms and bathrooms, and added locks that could only be unlocked from the outside, or with a special tool that he kept with himself. He wanted to make sure that we would never escape again. After that, he took one of his pills and pushed us to the ground. It didn't start working immediately, but he didn't care. He grabbed me first and started beating me harder than he'd ever done before. Soon after, he went after Leah. I wasn't going to let him hurt her, of course. When he didn't stop, I jumped on his back and tried to get him off of her. It worked like I thought it would, but things went very wrong from there."

As I paused, the gallery silently pleaded with me to continue.

"He wrapped his hands around my throat and started choking me. As much as I tried to pull his hands away, he was too strong. I thought that he was going to kill me right there in front of Leah. But like I saved her from getting hurt, she also wanted to save me," I said, my voice cracking.

"You're getting emotional again. Why?"

"Because, she did something that I never thought she would do, especially for me. Although my hearing was starting to fade, I heard her scream, 'Take me instead!' Soon I felt my body being dropped, and when I looked up, I saw that she had taken off her clothes except for her underwear. She knew that he wanted to rape her for the longest time, so she was about to sacrifice her virginity to save me. She didn't want to see me die, and I didn't want to see her get raped. For a few minutes, I pleaded with Troy not to do it, because I knew that she could get seriously hurt. At first, it didn't seem like he was going to listen to me, but instead, he decided that he was going to rape me and..."

"And what?"

"He decided that he was going to rape me and m-make Leah watch," I choked out.

Even Troy seemed to grow slightly embarrassed when the gallery gasped and exclaimed in shock.

"If it's not too difficult for you to recall, please explain what it was like for you and your daughter to go through such a shameful and humiliating ordeal."

"I'm not sure what was going through her mind, but it was clear that she was traumatized. She cried the whole time, and whenever she tried to look away, he warned her that she was next. As for me, I could hardly think straight because of how brutal it was. The pain was worse than anything I'd ever experienced, but he didn't care. He came up with gross or embarrassing games, most of which involved mocking me for his own pleasure. It went on for hours. He kept going and going until he saw blood. I couldn't handle so much abuse, and I eventually passed out. I think that was how I got pregnant. When I woke up, I remember how painful it was just to walk or sit. And for a few days, my daughter and I couldn't look at each other because of what we'd been through."

"After that traumatic experience, was life at home the same as it was before you escaped?"

"Not at all. It became worse. Not only did we still have to endure physical punishment, but now he was after our self-esteems. On some days he'd smash our faces against the mirror and call us hurtful names like 'repulsive,' 'stupid,' or 'worthless.' He told us that no one loved us and our family wouldn't miss us if he got bored and decided to kill us one day. After a while, I started to believe it because I was convinced that we were never going to escape. He also starved us on some days, or locked us in the basement overnight."

"When did you find out that you were pregnant?"

"Well, about seven or eight weeks after the incident, I noticed that my stomach was a little raised. Of course, the first thing that came to my mind was because I just ate. It wasn't much food, but I'd lost a lot of weight since then. When Leah caught me looking at my stomach, she guessed that I must've been pregnant. It was a scary possibility for me, because I knew that if Troy were to find out, he would probably try to get rid of it himself."

"So how did you find out?"

"There were some emergency pregnancy tests that I had bought the year before, and I used that to confirm my pregnancy," I said.

"Did you think about trying to make another escape?"

"Of course. I wasn't going to put another life in danger. I already failed to protect my daughter once, and I vowed to myself that it wouldn't happen again. The only way that we could possibly escape was through the garage door. All we needed to do was somehow get through the door that led to the garage."

"And what did you use to get through?"

"A knife. It wasn't easy trying to cut through a lock with it, but we kept trying until it worked. Troy was passed out on the couch, but we knew that he was probably going to wake up soon. My daughter and I ran as quietly as we could to avoid making noise, but... he caught us."

"What happened then?"

"Leah tried to get past him to unlock the door, but he grabbed her and started beating her. I immediately grabbed the closest weapon—which was an aluminum bat—and tried to knock him out. Instead, he took it from me and hit me right in the stomach. That was when I remembered, and I quickly told him that I was pregnant."

"I assume that he must have been shocked. Is that right?"

"He was very shocked. But then, he started telling me that it was my responsibility to prevent myself from getting pregnant, even though he was demanding sex from me every day. Then, he told me something that completely devastated me. He ordered me to get an abortion because he didn't want another 'little brat' to deal with. I was also angry because now I really knew who my husband cared about, and that was himself."

"We can all see that your unborn child has managed to make it this far. Since you went against your husband's wishes to abort the pregnancy, what was it like living with him in your condition?"

"Well," I sighed, "It was awful. Troy was furious that I didn't listen to him, so he tried his absolute best to make sure that I would have a miserable pregnancy. He would push me down, call me names, humiliate me; beat me. I'm surprised that the baby's still alive after the few horrible months I've had to put up with his treatment."

"On the night that Mr. Bolton was arrested, how did you end up having to fight for your life?"

"To be honest, I wasn't even his main target. At least not yet. That evening, my daughter and I found out that he was planning to kill us, but not after doing something that he'd been wanting to do since we escaped. He wanted to rape Leah. Before she knew what happened, he was carrying her up the stairs. When I tried to stop him, he threatened to kill her right there, along with hurting the baby. But I wasn't done fighting; not as long as I was still alive. I followed him into his room where he was tying her up, and threatened to kill him if he didn't let her go, with the same blade he threatened to use on me. He called me weak like he usually did, and said that I was too scared to do it."

"And...?"

"I'd heard enough. I sliced into his back and tried to stab him, but he kicked me off and we began to fight. It was hard, though, because at the same time I was trying to protect the baby. Eventually, he shoved me to the floor and grabbed the blade. When I realized that he was planning to kill Leah, I knew what I had to do. It didn't matter if I was going to die, as long as she was going to make it out alive. Without any ounce of doubt, I ran as fast as I could while he prepared to stab her. Knowing that it was the only way to protect Leah, I just threw myself on top of her, and he got me instead."

By the time I'd nearly reached the end of my account, it was clear that the family had been affected in more ways than one. While some shed tears of pain and sorrow, others shook with anger in their seats. Relieved that Leah was here in one piece, my emotional mother wrapped her arms around her, and whispered something into her ear.

I soon found out that my attorney wasn't going to let me go just yet.

"If you can remember, please describe what it was like when you realized that you were seriously wounded," she encouraged gently.

"Well, I remember screaming at first, because I was in so much pain. And then, I couldn't feel anything. I felt numb. I think I felt nothing partly because I was bleeding so much. Even though I couldn't really tell how much blood was coming out of me, I just knew that it was bad because of how sleepy I suddenly felt. Leah somehow got free and used her father's T-shirt to try and stop the bleeding. She was hysterical because she was afraid that I was going to die. I was also afraid, but I didn't show it at the time. In fact, I accepted my fate because I knew that sacrificing my life was going to save my daughter's. When Leah was born, I made a promise to her and to myself that nothing would ever stop me from protecting my daughter, even if it meant giving up my own life. Not even her own father can stop me from protecting her. If I did die that night, at least I would've lived long enough to see her get rescued from that monster."

"I think you've made that perfectly clear to me and to everyone else in this room. Before I let you go, however, answer me this last question... What do you regret most about having been through such a traumatic experience? What would you change if you knew that your life would eventually amount to this?"

As my attorney patiently waited for me to respond, I sat back in my seat to reflect on the choices I'd made while going through my horrific ordeal. There were countless things that I wished I had done differently, which resulted in regrets that I could never take back.

"I regret a lot of things. I regret ignoring my daughter when she urged me to run away with her. I regret allowing fear and guilt to affect my thinking. Most of all, I regret taking my marriage, my life, and my happiness for granted. It was a lesson that I never anticipated learning, but it was the one thing that I don't regret going through. This entire ordeal has made me stronger and wiser, and these days, I'm more compelled to go with my heart rather than my head. Life is so unpredictable; things can go from good to bad whether you're ready or not. It's also precious. I never knew how much I loved my daughter until I thought I lost her, and I feel bad because it shouldn't have taken a near-death experience for me to realize that. Even if the scars I've received over the past year don't ever heal, there's one thing I will be glad to walk away with: a newfound respect for single women, battered women, and women who feel like they don't have a voice. I just wish that they would realize the same thing I did. I'm not weak... I'm strong."

My attorney opened her mouth to speak, but quickly paused when someone in the gallery broke into applause. Soon enough, my family joined in, as well as Troy's family. The applause grew louder once a member of the jury rose to his feet, prompting everyone else to get up with him. Even the judge clapped politely from his seat.

That was when my husband, who had managed to keep up his threatening demeanor for the past two days, grew deathly pale. When the judge asked him if he wanted to testify in his defense, he quietly shook his head, still in evident shock. Nothing would save him from potentially going to jail for the rest of his life.

For him, it was all over.

**Sorry if there was too much dialogue in this one, but Gabriella was testifying. I felt that telling her side of the story was important because the jury will need to decide how stiff of a punishment Troy should receive. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought of the beginning because I wanted to reveal what Leah really thinks of her father even after he is gone. Thanks for reading and please review. :)**


	20. Unresponsive

**The day has finally come for Troy to receive his punishment. Luckily, I was able to come up with this chapter in a matter of several days because I was so eager for it. Thank you to all who reviewed and gave me your thoughts on the previous chapter. They really made my day. I know that you must be excited to start reading, so I'm gonna stop talking now. Please enjoy! **

**Chapter 20: Unresponsive**

**Gabriella**

Ever since my daughter and I were rescued from Troy, she did not seem to be herself anymore. Amidst horrible nightmares and occasional breakdowns, I felt that my efforts to understand what Leah was going through simply proved futile.

My concerns for her only escalated when I discovered that she was pulling her hair out. Whenever she thought that I wasn't looking, she would quickly pluck one strand out of her head at a time. While it was not by the fistful, those strands never took long to multiply. I'd hoped that the hair-pulling was just a nervous habit, but I knew that something was wrong once I would find hundreds of strands in the trash bin by the end of the day.

That wasn't all.

She was starting to grow increasingly worried about her appearance. One evening, she approached my bedside and asked me if I thought that she was beautiful. Of course, I responded positively. But something told me that she wasn't convinced by the way she skeptically walked away. Perhaps she thought that I was supposed to say that she was beautiful just because I was her mother.

This was the mess my husband left for me to clean up: a daughter who thought that she wasn't good enough for anyone; not even her own mother. If I could thank Troy Bolton for what he'd done for us over the past year, I would thank him for nothing but making our lives even more complicated.

The jury seemed to have come to their decision pretty quickly, as the very next day was going to be my husband's sentencing. In what usually took several months to a year, he was going to stand trial just days after his arrest. I had never heard of such a thing before. The outcome for him couldn't possibly be a good one. Hopefully at the reveal of his fate, my daughter would be able to start the process of healing, if possible.

I was tired that afternoon, yet relieved that I was finally going to leave the hospital. While my mother left early to prepare the house for me and my daughter's arrival, my father and my in-laws lingered to help me pack.

As I signed my discharge papers, Leah remained in the far corner of the room twisting the tempting strands of hair between her fingers. She was going to do it again.

_"Nena,"_ I called before she could yank the first root.

She quickly let go of her hair and stood up in hopes of completing a task for me. The desire to please me also became a habit of hers.

"That's okay; don't get up. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"How are you today?"

Stunned at my question, she sunk into a nearby chair and warily gazed at me, as if I'd asked her to do some wild favor.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"Aren't you excited to be staying by your grandparents? I've never seen you so unenthusiastic about going by them."

"Of course I'm excited. It's just that..."

She trailed off, seemingly hesitant to continue.

"What, honey?"

After Lindsay left the room carrying one of my bags, Leah stepped closer while fidgeting her hands.

"Well, it's not like today is a special occasion. We can't go back to our own house without thinking about the things that went on there. It's basically a crime scene," she said.

"That may be the case, Leah, but you shouldn't let that affect your mood. And today is a special occasion, because I'm not bedridden by this wound anymore. In the meantime, your grandparents are going to take good care of us, along with the rest of the family. Don't worry, okay?"

I tilted my daughter's chin up and offered her a warm smile of reassurance.

"Okay, Mama."

"Everything's packed away in the car. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. Do you need help getting up?" my daughter asked, eager to help yet again.

"That's okay, honey. I can get up by myself."

Once I easily pushed to my feet, I slipped my arm across Leah's shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. Since the baby was going to be born in less than two months, I needed to spend as much time with my daughter as I could before then.

When I pictured having another child, I never anticipated that I would have to go through the process without my husband. The reality that I was going to be raising two children by myself was terrifying simply because I never had to do anything alone before. Troy always made sure that I was never on my own, except for now.

To that day, I still wondered why he chose to give up his entire life for a selfish addiction. Those drugs didn't give him a lucrative career, a big house or a fancy car. Drugs didn't give him a loving family and a fulfilling life. He received nothing out of his addiction, except for the prospect of spending the rest of his life alone in a jail cell.

What did my daughter and I receive in return? Trauma, pain, mistrust and the deepest regret for the hell he put us through.

Whether his release was going to be ten or twenty years from now, Troy was going to have to work more than he ever worked just to make his presence known in any of our thoughts. To earn forgiveness would probably take him another twenty years. His parents and my parents will probably be dead by the time he wants their forgiveness, and he will never know what it's like to be forgiven by his own family for the remainder of his days.

He made his bed, so he was going to lie in it.

As these possibilities continued to swirl in my mind, Leah chatted quietly with my mother while my father drove out of Albuquerque. My parents lived in Los Lunas, a town about 20 miles away from the house my daughter and I never vowed to step foot in again.

Being part of a big Mexican family, my parents weren't the only people who lived there. Among my relatives were grandparents, aunts, uncles, and plenty of cousins. My family did everything together, whether it was a trip to the mall or the supermarket. Needless to say, our support system was very large.

Nearly forty-five minutes after leaving the hospital, we pulled onto the street only to be welcomed by a crowd of relatives in front of the house. Excited to have extra guests to play with, my younger cousins followed the car while my father backed into the driveway.

Living with just my husband and daughter for the past 14 years made me realize just how much I missed living with my big, crazy family. They would do anything for us.

Before any of us could get out of the car, some relatives had already opened the trunk and began carrying our bags into the house. No sooner than that did my aunts and grandmothers start thrusting plates of food under our noses. Wherever we turned, someone would quickly lean forward to plant a kiss on our cheeks, and extend their arms for a hug if they could. It was almost unrealistic how loved my daughter and I felt after listening to Troy repeat countless times that our family could care less about us.

We had been brainwashed into thinking that the reason no one was coming to our rescue was because they did not love us anymore. Clearly, he was very wrong.

Among the excited group of relatives that flocked into the house upon our arrival was my second cousin Sofía.

Though she was just as happy as everyone else to see us, she didn't express it openly. She was a very quiet, very introverted girl who never spoke unless she was spoken to. Just ten years before, she was a bubbly, outgoing child who never seemed to be in a bad mood.

All that changed once she was dragged into a situation in which she had no control over, and her life took a turn for the worst. At just twenty years old, she was carrying a burden that was heavier than that of anyone else I had ever known. Haunted by nearly impossible-to-heal scars, it was going to take a long time for her just to feel at peace with herself.

Well-aware of her harrowing past, the family grew silent once I approached Sofía in the corner of the living room.

"Hi, Sofía. It's been awhile since I've seen you. How are you?" I began gently.

For once, she didn't find it difficult looking into my eyes.

Behind those brown irises I found the earliest signs of trust. Now that Leah and I could relate to the struggle she had been through, the understanding was mutual between us. Perhaps in time she would open up to me in hopes of bonding with someone who experienced the same type of ordeal.

"I'm fine, Gabriella. Thank you for asking," she whispered.

I could sense my relatives admiring my touching interaction with her.

"That's great, sweetie. How's Marcelo doing?"

"Papa is still the same. I'm just waiting for him to come home."

I knew that I'd gotten somewhere with Sofía once the corners of her mouth slowly rose. I had not seen her smile for years.

Gently grasping her hand, I returned the smile and said, "Don't worry... He'll be back soon."

**~WYLS~**

**Leah**

While most of the family had gathered into the dining room for dinner, I remained in the guest room putting away my clothing.

At the same time, I thought about how I would react when the jury announced the verdict at my father's sentencing the following day. Nothing brought me more relief than knowing that he would no longer be able to hurt my mother and I. At least then I would start to feel somewhat safe again. As for returning to a normal life, it seemed practically impossible.

Once I felt the loose strands of hair tickling the back of my arms, I fought the voice in my head that was persuading me to rip them out. I hated the feeling of temptation; doing something that I really didn't want to do but couldn't resist doing anyway.

Seeking instant gratification, I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind myself. After taking a seat on the cool tiled ground, with my back against the door, I took a single strand between my fingers and twirled it repeatedly.

For a moment, I contemplated whether I should begin another hair-pulling session. Initially, I meant to pull a few strands for a few minutes of curiosity. But those few minutes would turn into twenty to thirty minutes, and I would always end up throwing away several hundred strands of my own hair. Shortly after, my satisfaction would only turn into regret.

The longer I took to rethink my decision, the more I wanted to pull.

Without thinking, I wrapped the strand firmly around my finger, lowered my grip towards my scalp and pulled. I winced and blinked a few times before bringing the strand close to my face. In awe I gazed at the thick, white root that stuck to the very tip of the strand. While the world faded around me, I took the root between my fingernails and squeezed it until I was convinced that it was no more. Now I was hooked.

Like a robot, I continued to pluck, observe and squeeze as time passed me by. Soon, the floor became littered by hair, and I did not notice just how many strands I had pulled until a knock on the door jolted me from my trance.

"Leah, are you in there? Come downstairs and eat some dinner," my mother said.

When she attempted to twist the doorknob, I scrambled to clean up the hair once she realized that it was locked.

"Why is the door locked?"

Hoping that she wouldn't become suspicious, I quickly unlocked the door and came up with a hasty excuse.

"Sorry about that. I didn't want any of the little kids walking in on me while I was using the bathroom."

"Well, they're downstairs right now. Come on, let's get your dinner before it gets cold," she urged gently.

"Okay."

As I slipped past my mother in the doorway, I hoped that I could get away without her noticing a difference in my behavior. When she suddenly placed her hand on top of my head, I froze.

"Wait a minute, Leah," she said while pulling me back.

That was when she began inspecting my hair, and soon gazed at me in concern. I couldn't avoid being questioned even if I wanted to.

"Your hair looks so thin all of a sudden. And your scalp is just red!"

"Oh, um, my head was itching really badly, so I scratched it. That's all," I replied nervously.

"Are you sure you were just scratching? I mean, it's not just red. It's _beet _red."

Since the hair-pulling left my scalp slightly sore, it was uncomfortable the way she kept combing through each strand. Eventually, I grew impatient with her prying and said something I never thought I would say to my mother.

"Look, nothing is wrong with me. Can you just leave me alone?!" I snapped.

She was shocked, to say the least. In the back of my mind, I pictured her slapping me across the face for talking back to her. But that wasn't who my mother was. If it were my father, I certainly would have paid.

Clearly hurt, she lowered her hands and carefully stepped back.

Her voice was unusually soft when she replied, "Oh. I didn't mean to get in your way. I was just concerned about you."

Now, I felt guilty for yelling at her. For a moment, we stood in the guest room not knowing what else to say and unable to look each other in the eyes.

"Um, you can come down and eat your dinner whenever you're ready, okay?"

"I will, Mom."

The tension between us temporarily diminished once she silently left the room, giving me the chance to consider my mistake.

Hurting my mother's feelings was the last thing I wanted to do. There was no way that she could find out about my newfound addiction, so I resorted to whatever I could to make sure that she wouldn't bring up the subject again. Obviously, it worked much too well.

Later that night, I found out just how much my actions had affected my mother.

In the bed that we shared, I could hear her breathing heavily, as if trying to hold back tears. I remained still beside her, too embarrassed to move. Perhaps she thought that I was sleeping. It was nearly 2:00 in the morning, after all.

Soon enough, I could feel the mattress vibrating as she began to tremble with sobs.

I had broken my mother's heart.

She didn't deserve to be hurt even more after recovering from a year of torture and heartache. It was as if I had screamed, "Thanks for nothing," and slammed the bedroom door in her face.

What did she owe me for bringing _me _into this world, for giving _me_ unconditional love and support, and for saving _my _life? Absolutely nothing. If anything, I needed to repay her for what she had done for me, because I did _nothing _for her.

Just when I thought that I could not become more emotional, she quickly sat upright and gently raked her fingers across my scalp. Goosebumps rose on the surface of my skin at the gratifying sensation, and I tried my best not to shudder.

"Not you, too, Angel," she whispered, fearing that she would lose me like she lost my father.

That only led me to believe that she knew about my hair-pulling addiction. For a moment, I contemplated turning around and apologizing for hurting her. But I couldn't bear to see her cry. It would only make me feel worse.

Instead, I shut my eyes even tighter and let the hot tears run down my face.

**~WYLS~**

**Gabriella**

There was absolutely nothing that could lift my spirits that morning once I woke with dark circles under my eyes, badly swollen ankles, and unrelenting body aches.

That day was going to be the moment of truth for my husband as well as for me. While he would have to accept his punishment for what he'd done to us, I would have to accept losing the man who once promised me the world and more.

To make things worse, my daughter was beginning to show signs of addiction. Any addiction was bad, especially when it involved self-harm. Pulling hair did not seem like such a bad addiction, but when that addiction was fueled by resentment, distrust and shattered expectations, things could turn from okay to severe in just a matter of time. I feared that if my daughter couldn't find peace within herself soon enough, she would end up heading down a very dangerous path. If she were to somehow follow in her father's footsteps, whether unintentionally or deliberately, I would never forgive him for as long as I lived.

Leah was already out of bed when I'd opened my eyes. On her empty pillow were the few dead strands of her hair that had fallen out as a result of pulling.

Just wanting to get the day over with, I dragged myself and the baby out of bed before heading downstairs for breakfast. Despite my bleak mood, my mother greeted me with a long hug and kiss at the bottom of the staircase.

_"Buenos días, mi amor. ¿Cómo estás hoy?" _

From the corner of my eye, I could see my daughter preparing to avoid my gaze.

"I've been better, Mama. I just want to go to the courthouse, listen to the verdict, come back home and go right back to sleep. I'm really not in the mood today."

"I don't blame you, Sweetie. But we're here to support you no matter what. Remember that," she gently reminded me.

The warm smile she gave me managed to make me feel slightly better, and this time, I pulled her into a hug.

"I know, Mama. I don't know what I'd do without you."

After handing me a plate of breakfast, I spun around to head to the dining table. As expected, Leah quickly glanced down at her food as if she wasn't staring at me the whole time. She also seemed evidently drained.

Putting aside my hurt for the moment, I reached out and rubbed the shell of her ear to get her attention.

"Hey there, Princess. Good morning," I whispered.

"Good morning, Mama."

"Did you sleep well last night?"

When she finally looked into my eyes, I realized that hers were slightly bloodshot. She had been crying.

"Not really," she murmured.

Knowing that she probably didn't want to talk at the moment, I simply decided to let her know that she could talk to me at any time.

"If you ever need somebody to talk to, I'm always going to be here for you. Never forget that, okay?"

Without a word, Leah glanced back down and nodded her head.

Something told me that she felt terrible about raising her voice at me the night before. While I was still slightly hurt, I wasn't going to let that affect my relationship with her. My love for her was deeper than ever before, and nothing could ever change my strong feelings for her. Perhaps she felt so bad because she was aware of that. At least I hoped she was aware of that.

I decided to remind her just in case.

"I love you, Leah... so much."

Again, my daughter brought her gaze up to meet mine. This time, however, her eyes were filled with tears.

"What do you want from me?"

Before I could convince her to stay, she quickly rose from her seat and escaped to the guest room. Of course, I immediately followed her and found myself running into the locked door.

"Please open up, baby."

From the opposite side of the door, my daughter was sobbing uncontrollably.

"I can't! I'm tired of hurting you."

"I'm not hurt, Sweetie. I'm okay."

"Don't lie to me! I heard you crying until 4:00 this morning," she replied.

Had I known that she was awake, I certainly wouldn't have shed a tear. But she did know, and I was disappointed in myself for letting her find out.

"Fine, I was hurt last night. But it doesn't change how much I love you. Let me in so we can talk about this. Please," I pleaded.

I listened as my daughter fell silent, possibly contemplating whether to let me in or not. A sigh of relief left my lips once the doorknob twisted between my grip.

When I stepped into the room to talk to my daughter, I found that her right palm was full of uprooted hair. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she took hurried breaths. I had never seen her so disturbed before. The foreign sight was almost terrifying. She backed away as I stepped closer, hoping to stop her before she decided to do something desperate.

"Leah..."

"I know that you know about it. You're afraid that I'm going to end up like Papa. You think that I'm going to be a drug addict, don't you?"

"What on earth gave you that idea, Leah?"

"Last night, you said, 'Not you, too.' What do you think that means?"

"I never meant for you to think that way. It just means that—"

"Stop it! I hate it when you beat around the bush and make things seem like they're not that bad. Look at me, Mama! Look at how screwed up I am! Things are bad!" she cried.

"Do you honestly think that you're going to become an addict?"

"I don't know. But why can't I stop pulling out my hair? Why does the pain and everything else go away when I do it?"

"Because, you haven't found a healthy way to cope yet. I can help you. We can help each other," I explained.

"That's not going to work, Mama."

"And why not?"

"Because, the only way I can stop thinking about everything we've been through is if I hurt myself. Pretty soon I'll grow used to the pain and do something that's going to cause me even more pain. It hurts, but I want it to hurt because everything is my fault! It's my fault that Papa turned on us. It's my fault that he hurt you so badly..."

_"No, Leah!_ No! This entire situation is not your fault. It never was! Don't let whatever bullshit he told you affect your sanity, because it's his fault that we're in this mess. Don't you understand that?"

"You heard him, Mama. His life was miserable because of me. I was the one who ruined it for all of us," she said.

"This is the last time I'm going to tell you this: Troy Bolton is the one who ruined it for us! He was the selfish, heartless bastard who made you think this way. And when he gets the punishment deserves today, I am going to be happier than I've ever been in my entire life. I could care less if he spends the rest of his miserable life rotting in a jail cell. None of this is your fault, Leah. Do you hear me? None of this!"

Before I knew it, my daughter was on my lap crying hysterically.

This was exactly what she needed: someone to tell her that she wasn't to blame for anyone's pain. Perhaps it was going to be the first step towards letting the scars heal and learning to forgive herself. Whatever support she was going to need, I promised to be with her every step of the way, no matter what challenges she had yet to face.

When I was convinced that my daughter had calmed down, I gently framed her head between my palms and locked my eyes against hers.

"Look at what a strong little girl I created. I'm very proud of you for opening up to me. Please, don't ever hesitate to come to me for help," I said gently.

"I'm so sorry for the way I treated you yesterday. I just panicked because I didn't want you to find out, and..."

"Shh, it's okay. Apology accepted. We will get through this, Leah. As long as we have each other."

"Thanks for never giving up on me. You have no idea how much you mean to me, Mama. I love you so much," my daughter said while wrapping her arms around me.

I knew that she trusted me by the way she sighed contently in my embrace, not having to worry about me ever hurting her.

"I love you, too, Leah. I would never dream of giving up on you."

**~WYLS~**

Everyone seemed to be on-edge as my daughter and I entered the courthouse that afternoon.

Unlike the preliminary trial and testimonies, our families did not buzz with excitement, because they were anxious to know of the charges my husband would be convicted of. Although I could not determine how many years he would have to live out his sentence, I knew that there was a whole laundry list of crimes that he committed. I wondered how he felt about his impending fate.

I soon received my answer when Troy was escorted into the room, only to be greeted with dozens of loathsome glares by both sides of the family. He'd managed to maintain that hard, emotionless expression on his face for the past week.

However on that day, I could see that behind his stony gaze was something else besides apathy: fear. Perhaps no one else could tell that he was scared, but as his wife, I knew him all too well.

Judge Baldwin soon made his appearance, as well as my attorney. From the satisfied look on her face, I could tell that this was a proud day for her.

Surprisingly, I was also proud considering the huge part my husband played in nearly destroying my daughter's self-image. Before last night, I was not entirely sure of my feelings. Now, nothing would make me think otherwise.

"To start this final sentencing, I would first like to list the charges and crimes that have been filed against Troy Bolton for all in attendance today."

She paused, taking time to grab a sheet from her desk before clearing her throat.

"First and foremost, the suspect has been charged with possession of a controlled substance, as well as alcohol abuse. Next, two counts of aggravated assault with intent to commit a violent felony. Then there's kidnapping in the first degree, first degree child abuse, aggravated indecent exposure, first degree aggravated rape, and last but not least, three counts of attempted murder in the second degree. That's eight crimes in all. I think it's pretty safe to say that Mr. Bolton will not be leaving the Penitentiary of New Mexico for a very long time."

Moments later, the jury retreated to an adjacent room to deliberate their final verdict. Meanwhile, my husband sat patiently and still, occasionally murmuring something to his attorney or glancing at the clock. During those long thirty minutes, he never once looked back at any of us.

It was a good thing, too, because both of our families looked as if they wanted to kill him. The less remorseful he seemed, the angrier they grew.

I knew that the moment of truth had arrived once the 12 jury members quietly filed back into the courtroom. The bailiff who was in charge of escorting them approached the judge and handed him a piece of paper.

"All right," Judge Baldwin began while adjusting his eyeglasses. "Will the defendant please rise?"

Seemingly ready to accept his punishment, Troy sighed and rose from his seat, causing the wrinkles in his jumpsuit to smooth out. I reached over and grasped my daughter's hand as we waited anxiously for the announcement of the verdict.

"Before I state the verdict, I would just like to say a few words to Mr. Bolton. You are extremely fortunate that the jury gets to decide your fate, because if it were up to me, you would be sentenced to life in prison. Like everyone else in this courtroom, I just want to know why. Why give up your successful career, your family; your whole life for nothing? That's a pretty foolish decision to make if I may say so. Whatever you were after—whatever gratification or relief you craved somehow made this all worth it to you. Well, let's see what taking your life for granted has earned you..."

If my family and were leaning any more on the edge of our seats, we would've been sitting on the floor. Time seemed to slow down as the judge adjusted his glasses a second time.

"Troy Bolton, the defendant in this case has been found guilty of all the alleged charges. He is to serve a minimum of 20 years in prison with the possibility of parole in 2033."

Not as much happened as I'd expected once the verdict was revealed.

There were neither tearful nor joyful outbursts; no one moved or applauded. At that moment, the murmurs that most of the gallery broke into was the only thing that convinced me that I was still breathing. I didn't know what to think; I didn't know what to do.

Although I'd spent the past few days berating my husband for all that he'd done to hurt us, the realization that he was going to be locked away for 20 years made my heart slightly heavy. As much as I wanted to deny it, Troy Bolton would always have a special place in my heart; albeit a very small place. He occupied my heart nonetheless.

Clearly stunned, my husband slowly sank into his chair and gazed straight ahead in a trance. That was when the judge took the opportunity to hear what he had to say.

"Is there anything that you would like to say in response, Mr. Bolton?" Judge Baldwin asked.

I half-expected him to fall to his knees and beg for leniency; anything to avoid going to jail. But he was just too shocked to do anything.

After a couple seconds of contemplation, he leaned close to the microphone on the desk and numbly replied, "No, Your Honor."

"All right, then. This session is over. Court dismissed."

Beside me, my mother scoffed to herself.

"Not even an apology... What do you expect from a cold-hearted man like him?"

While everyone else began to leave their seats, I remained frozen in place, unresponsive as I watched the bailiff escort him out of the room.

That was when he did something that I knew would haunt my dreams for the duration of his sentence.

Before the door swung shut, he finally glanced over his shoulder and sent me a numb gaze, revealing to me that he too was unresponsive. Perhaps I was the only one who realized how terrified Troy was, and perhaps I was the only one who still cared. Despite my sudden concern for him, I put on a brave face, rose to my feet and turned my back to him, just like the rest of our families did.

If that was the day he realized how much his family really meant to him, it was far too late to go back. He could wish and keep wishing for everything to go back to the way they were before, but that wish would never come true no matter how hard he tried.

**Again, thank you guys so much for being patient with me as well as continuing to read my stories. There will be much more to come for this story and the one that I'm planning to post after this one. Also, if you're wondering why I briefly turned the focus on Gabriella's cousin Sofía, you will eventually find out once I get further into the story. So, I hoped you enjoyed reading. Please keep up the reviews because they are truly motivating, especially while finals are just around the corner. Thank you so much! :D **


	21. What I Deserve

**So, it's been a whole month since I've posted... That's pretty disappointing, I'm not gonna lie. I knew what I wanted to write about but the words just weren't coming. It was really frustrating because I spent at least several weeks going back to my drafts multiple times and just leaving them because I didn't know how to continue. I really hope the next one doesn't take long because you guys have waited long enough. This wasn't even my normal 10-12 pages. I only completed 8 pages in all. But here it is. We finally see Troy's point of view as he arrives at the prison. ****Anyway please read and enjoy. **

***Also, please read my author's note when you've finished reading because I have written somewhat of an announcement to make. :)***

**Chapter 21: What I Deserve**

**Troy**

"All right, Boys. Let's look alive for our new neighbors," announced a gruff security guard as the refurbished white school bus rumbled to a stop.

After what seemed like an endless trip, my journey as well as that of the other inmates had finally come to an end. The thick, wrought-iron bars covering the bus windows did little to provide me with a clear view of the penitentiary, but it was enough to give me a preview of what was going to be my home for the next twenty years. The entrance was not as disconcerting as I'd expected it to be. However, the nauseating pit in my stomach warned me not to make any assumptions too quickly. Looks were deceiving, and according to my wife's attorney, I was the embodiment of deceiving looks.

I shifted my shackled ankles around while I tried to get comfortable yet again. My handcuffed wrists were no better, as I couldn't do anything without feeling like a bound animal. Perhaps I was an animal.

"Hey! You over there!" someone called loudly, which pulled me from my trance.

When I forced myself to look up, I found the security guards and the other 21 inmates giving me dirty looks. That was when I noticed that I was the only one sitting down.

Still, I was dumb enough to respond, "Me?"

"Yes, you! What are you—deaf? We're waiting on you to get your ass out of the seat. Come on!"

Choosing to put aside my embarrassment for the moment, I returned the silent, stony gaze and grudgingly complied with the guard's orders.

Standing among the ranks were murderers, drug dealers, thieves and gang members. Ironically, I stood out more than they did for the type of crimes I had committed. I hoped that no one would single me out, as I was considered to be a "special case." For the wardens, they weren't sure whether to put me in Cell Block IV, where the most dangerous prisoners were held, or in Cell Block III, which held prisoners who committed less severe but still very serious crimes. By the way they exchanged whispers as I stepped off of the bus, it was clear that they already knew who I was.

Once the new arrivals and I were led through the garage of the facility, we were searched and processed again before lining up so that the wardens from each cell block could decide where to assign each of us. While some of the thieves were sent to Cell Block III, I silently hoped that I would be going with them. I held onto that hope even as the small group was escorted down the opposite corridor and behind a heavy door. The wardens could care less that I wasn't as ruthless as the people whom I was left with.

They soon shoved a package containing an extra jumpsuit, plain underwear and hygiene items into my hands and guided me towards the dark corridor labeled: "Cell Block IV."

Considering my luck, I wasn't all that surprised.

Some inmates, especially those who were as young as seventeen, anxiously gripped their belongings as the wardens unlocked a large, bolted door at the end of the corridor. Once the warden on the other side gave a signal, it took three of them to haul the door open.

"Do not retaliate to any of the inmates when they start to taunt you. Just keep your mouths shut and your hands to yourself and keep walking. The last thing we need is a death today."

Before they could even begin to instruct us to walk, I could hear the locked up inmates growing eager to torment us new guys. The jeers and barks grew louder once the first set of men stepped into the main cell block, which kept more than 600 prisoners. No one could tell, but my heart was racing more than a mile a minute despite the fact that I had not even stepped over the threshold yet. In my head, I counted down the amount of people in front of me as the line rapidly grew shorter and shorter.

_...six... five... four... three... two... one..._

At the first sight of me, one antagonistic inmate singled me out for my appearance and quickly pointed me out to the others.

"Take a look at Mr. Pretty Boy over here! Isn't he a good-looking piece of fresh meat?" the man taunted behind the bars of his cell, while his cell-mate encouraged the others to join.

Soon enough, word spread that a "pretty" inmate had arrived, and that was when I knew that I was in for a hard time. On the way to my cell, I glared down an inmate who attempted to intimidate me with a derisive comment.

His arms folded across his chest, he said, "You better lose those good looks, man, or somebody here is gonna make you their wife."

Before I could walk past his cell, however, I was stopped by the warden. As he reached forward to unlock the cell gate, I realized that I was going to be sharing a cell with that man. Finding nothing special about my arrival, he sunk into his sleeping cot, put his hands behind his head and relaxed.

"How's your daughter doing, Powers?" the warden asked.

Without opening his eyes, he replied, "You know, my baby's getting there. The doctors are sure that she's going to be walking again in six months."

"You must be pretty proud of her. She is a fighter."

"She sure is... Just like me."

For the first time that day, the warden cracked a smile. However, when he turned back to me, his expression returned to what I considered as normal: harsh.

"Anyway, Powers, this is 57942—"

"Troy Bolton is my name... My name is Troy Bolton," I dared to speak up.

"All right, then. This is Bolton. As much as I would love to tell you what he's here for, he clearly knows how to speak for himself. I'll let him explain."

Leaving me to my own devices, the warden slowly pulled the bars shut before locking it. I was left alone with the man once he returned to his post at the end of the block. I was not sure exactly what my cellmate had been convicted of, so I made sure not to turn my back on him yet.

Without a word, I placed my items on my cot and took in my surroundings. Despite having never been in a jail cell until that day, it looked pretty typical from what I had seen on television. The walls were dirty and cracked, the floor was made up of cold concrete, and it smelled as if an animal had died in the place. There was not much in a cell, except for the bare essentials: a sink, a toilet, a metal rack to place items on, and two beds.

During the trip to the penitentiary earlier that morning, a returning offender mentioned that in Cell X, where the most dangerous and unstable convicts were held, they had none of those luxuries. For precautionary measures, they weren't even allowed to wear clothes, as in the past, some tried to choke themselves to death. They were housed in the most distant part of the penitentiary, and from what I heard, they had the most security. The cells in which they were held were not like our cells. They were blank, white padded boxes with no windows or air ducts, and they were big enough for only one occupant. Convicts there were never allowed out, nor able to see visitors if they had any. Perhaps that was another reason why they were so insane.

Several minutes had passed after the warden locked me in with the inmate, and I wasn't dead. The longer I stayed in there with him, the less intimidated I began to feel. He did not seem as intimidating as before. By that time, I assumed that he would've begun shaking me like a ragdoll, demanding that I tell him what I was here for.

Instead, he remained still on his cot for several minutes, perhaps in hopes of falling asleep. I couldn't blame him. There wasn't much to do. While we were only allowed out of our cells for meals, taking showers, recreational time, therapy sessions and visits, the rest of the day consisted of sitting in your cell, waiting for something to happen.

My cellmate had clearly spent enough time locked up to know what the routine was, so I decided follow him and climbed into my cot to take a nap. Just when I thought that he was asleep, I found him standing above me in the blink of an eye.

"I hope you're not planning on falling asleep. We get out for lunch in five minutes," he told me.

"Thanks for the head's up."

"Don't get used to it. Around here, you're on your own."

As I sat upright, my cellmate stood looking out for the wardens. He then observed me from head to toe and shook his head in confusion.

"What the hell are you here for, anyway? You look like a preppy white collar worker if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not mistaken. I used to be one," I sighed.

"Oh, so you're here for embezzlement or some kind of fraud, huh? You corporates are filthy rich but you still want more money."

"That's not what I'm here for..." I hesitated.

"Then, what are you here for?"

That was when I realized that I had never spoken about my crimes out loud, at least the crimes I'd committed against my wife and daughter. Suddenly, I felt guilty once I spotted a picture of his daughter taped on the wall beside his bed. The little girl was lying in a hospital, looking thin and frail. Protruding from her body were several tubes and wires, and her legs were caged by a pair of metal braces. She looked no older than five years old. Perhaps I didn't have to tell him what I did to them and keep that ugly secret to myself.

Instead, I replied, "I-I was arrested for abusing drugs and alcohol. I was kind of an addict."

Suspecting nothing more, my cellmate nodded and said, "Oh, okay. That's not bad considering what I did to end up here."

"Which was...?"

"Murder," he said plainly. "No one messes with my family."

Not knowing what to say, I also nodded and hoped that I wouldn't become one of his victims if he were to find out the main reason for my incarceration.

Despite my raging hunger, I dreaded leaving my cell to go to lunch. That only meant that I would have to endure torment by the other cellmates, who christened me as "Pretty Boy" the moment I stepped into Block IV.

_Don't be such a coward! You're in jail! If they sense the slightest ounce of fear you'll be eaten alive,_ my brain coached as a warden came by to unlock our cell gate.

Before leaving the safety of the cell, I made sure to put up a tough façade so that they would see that I wasn't going to take anything from them. However, the moment I came face to face with a horde of threatening inmates, it finally registered where I was.

_Shit, I'm in jail._

I made sure to avoid their dark gazes as I followed the group into the main cafeteria. It did not take me very long to figure out that I was being watched by several inmates. As I stepped into the queue to grab a tray of food, one inmate stepped beside me, and got a little too close for my comfort. Choosing to ignore him, I collected my tray of food and disposable utensils and prepared to find a seat.

Once I spun around and observed the hundreds of inmates sitting with their own groups, I suddenly felt as if I were in high school again. While the others confidently strode towards the tables in which their friends were sitting, I was the outcast, searching for a table where I could fit in with other lonely occupants.

Not wanting to seem lost, I slowly made my way across the cafeteria until I spotted an empty table in the farthest corner. Meanwhile, I began to notice that more inmates were watching me. Some tried to intimidate me by tossing suggestive or threatening comments at me, while others mocked me just because I was new.

Although I really wanted to shut them up myself, I recalled the warden's warnings not to retaliate. Instead, I tried my best not to lose my temper and focused on getting to the table, which felt like the longest walk of my life.

For most of my life I had managed to avoid being targeted by bullies. That day was the very first I had to endure ridicule and torment, and it wasn't a good feeling at all. My legs were trembling, my heart was racing, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

Just when I thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse for me, I was suddenly blindsided by a solid blow to the face. The punch was hard enough to send me and my food crashing into the table I'd intended on sitting at. Before I could even fathom what had occurred, another blow, this time to my stomach, caused me to double over in agony. Around me I could hear the other inmates jumping up from their seats to watch me get pummeled.

When my vision cleared, I saw that standing above me was a large group of bulky Hispanic men, all wearing masks of hate on their faces. I assumed that the biggest one who was covered in the most tattoos was the leader of the pack. He quickly knelt down and grabbed me by the collar of my jumpsuit.

"What's good, Pretty Boy? I'm Marcelo. From what I heard, you like beating on women and children. How would you like it if we beat on you harder than you beat on them? You're too much of a coward to fight another man, so you'd rather beat on people who are a lot smaller than you. Well, around here we like to teach assholes like you a lesson. You just earned yourself a proper welcome..."

Instead of punishing me himself, the man stood back and signaled for his followers to take care of me. What happened next was nothing short of brutal. My senses soon became overwhelmed as the group attacked me. From every direction imaginable I was kicked, punched and thrashed around as if I were some kind of punching bag. Never before had I experienced such suffering and maltreatment. Everything around me began to spin wildly, and I could not tell up from down. Mere seconds felt like hours. I felt vulnerable and helpless because no one seemed to care what I was going through. It wasn't fair to be brutalized by someone much bigger and stronger than myself. What had I ever done to them to receive such a harsh punishment?

My anguish did not end until I felt people being dragged away from my body. Although I could not move, I strained my ears to identify the distorted sounds around me: a riot siren, inmates running away, and security guards yelling. Once I felt my body being lifted off of the ground, I realized that I was no longer in pain, but my senses had gone numb as a result.

"Can you hear me, Mr. Bolton? Hello? Mr. Bolton?" came a voice in which I could hardly make out.

Whoever was speaking to me seemed to care about my safety, so I answered with a heavy nod. I could not see them because of how swollen my eyes were. All I knew was that it was a woman, and she cared. The following minutes had transpired in what seemed like parts, as I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Eventually, I grew tired of fighting to stay awake, and decided to let that voice save me.

**~WYLS~**

"Where am I?" I questioned weakly, moments after I had awoken to discover in a hospital bed.

The nurse who stood in the corner of the room kept her back towards me as she continued disposing some materials. Standing at the front door was a pair of muscular security guards.

In the corner of the room sat another woman, who silently wrote on a notepad. I decided to ignore her.

"You're in the hospital. Medics from the prison rushed you over here because your injuries were so severe."

"Oh."

A sudden headache caused me to groan in pain, and I soon realized just how badly I'd been beaten. As much as I wanted to survey the damage on my own, I was too battered to move a muscle. Even breathing proved to be a challenge, as my ribs ached whenever I inhaled and exhaled. I was soon told that I had received a mild concussion, a few cracked ribs and a laceration on my cheek that had been stitched up moments ago.

Now that I was awake, the nurse soon asked me why I was beaten so badly. From then on, I was going to be honest about the crimes I committed.

"You'd hate me if I told you," I murmured.

"I hardly even know you. Why would I hate you?"

"Well, you should... Last year one of my coworkers slipped something into my drink at a job party, and I got such a high from it that I don't remember what happened. The next day I was trying to figure out why my wife and daughter were acting so strange around me, and I never found out until they testified against me in court. It turns out that I ended up slapping her across the face, and went straight to bed. After that incident, I found out that the same coworker of mine also snuck a bag of drugs into my jacket pocket. I was furious with him, so I got up and went to throw it away. But..."

"But what?" the nurse questioned, clearly engrossed in my story.

From the corner of the room, the woman with the notepad never stopped writing.

"For some reason, I couldn't throw it away. At least the rest of it. I don't know why. I guess it was because when I was high the night before, it was like I was in a relaxing trance that made me feel different, I guess. For once I wasn't worried or stressed out about anything, and it felt good. But that was the problem. I had no control over my actions when I was high, and that's what caused me to hurt them. All of the things I've done to them seem like such a blur, because I was either too high or too drunk to think clearly. I easily could've denied what I did to them because I hardly remember, but recently I've been having dreams about the things I did to them. At first I thought that they were just random dreams, until I realized that they were the same incidents my wife and daughter retold in court. Now I know what it's like to beat someone until they lose consciousness, or crush someone's hand under my feet, or even kidnap then against their will. What's even worse is that I know what pure terror looks like when I tried to rape my daughter, and when I tried to stab her, but got my wife instead. She and my unborn baby could've died because of me. All because I was so selfish... because I wanted to take the pain away."

That was when I realized why the inmates beat me so badly. They wanted me to feel the same pain that I once inflicted on Gabriella and Leah, and I deserved it. Had I known the exact magnitude of pain and degradation that I had caused them, I never would have hurt them. Being remorseful was all I could do about it, because it was much too late to apologize. I would have the next 20 years to think about my selfish mistakes.

Perhaps if I just behaved, kept silent and stayed out of everyone's way, it would go by quicker. I had done enough damage already, and I was determined not to cause any more harm.

**~WYLS~**

Later that night when I was feeling much better, I was transferred back to the prison and sent straight to my cell. There was no need for me to go to dinner because I'd received it at the hospital. My cellmate didn't look up from his novel as I limped into my cell and carefully lay across my sleeping cot.

At that moment, I didn't care if he suddenly hated me for not telling him the entire truth. I just wanted to make it through the night. After that incident, I quickly learned that if I wanted to survive the duration of my sentence, I would have to remain silent but strong, having respect for everyone that I would come across from then on. I'd caused enough pain and disappointment to my family. I had no right to carry myself as if I were on a throne, but to grovel in filth like a lowly street rat.

Whatever other misfortunes should come my way, I knew that I and no one else deserved them, especially Gabriella and Leah.

**I hope that I will be able to update a lot quicker during the summer break. Updating more frequently and finding a summer job are at the top of my list right now, so let's hope everything works out fine. **

***Okay, here's the announcement I talked about earlier. This story isn't even close to being finished, but for several weeks I've been contemplating the decision to make a sequel to _When You Love Someone_ based on Leah's point of view. It was not until the other night that I finally decided to formulate a plot for this sequel. I spent the other night exchanging ideas with Fairyvixenmaiden and deciding what I wanted to do with Leah once she starts to go through the rest of her teenage years. It's still mostly random ideas but I think I should start soon so that I won't be completely behind when I feel ready to publish it. Who knows? Maybe next year you may start to see something. Perhaps I will post somewhat of a "sneak peak" chapter in a few months. Maybe an actual trailer? That should be pretty fun.***

**Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I thank all of you for supporting me and putting up with my irritating writer's block. It really means a lot to me and I just thought I'd say that. See you soon and review of course! :)**


	22. Old Wounds

**Hey guys, thank you so much for being patient with me because it has been a tough couple of weeks trying to finish this chapter. I know that I take forever to update and it sometimes seems as though I am abandoning you guys, but I will never do that to you. I will _not_ give up until I have completed this story as well as my upcoming ones. Thank you for the feedback as well. I loved reading your reactions about Troy's jailhouse initiation. Yesterday I was lucky enough to get a burst of inspiration and I was able to finish the chapter to my liking, so I hope you like it. Hopefully I have somewhat recovered from my slump because I had no trouble starting the draft for Chapter 23 just a moment ago. Anyway, I've spoken enough. Please enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 22: Old Wounds**

**Leah**

"Mama, why do I have to see a therapist? It was embarrassing enough that I had to testify in front of the family in court," I complained to my mother as I followed her around the kitchen that morning.

"Because, I'm concerned for you. We all are. I know you don't think that you need help right now, but I've been losing sleep after what happened the other day. You really scared me, Leah."

As much as I wanted to prove to my mother that she was wrong, I couldn't deny the truth even if I wanted to.

On that morning I had been reduced to a fragile wreck. I felt ashamed and angry and trapped, unable to find my way out. I thought that I could ease the pressure if I'd ripped out fistfuls of my hair and showed my mother just how much I was suffering. Had she not chased after me immediately after my escaped, I probably would've gone to extreme measures to punish myself the way I deserved to be punished. I imagined that she must have been terrified to see me in such a desperate condition. Little did she know that I was also terrified.

"I know," I sighed. "I just don't feel comfortable bringing everything up again. All I want to do is leave the past alone and forget that this whole thing ever happened."

"But it did happen, Leah. It's not easy to forget the time your father locked me in the hot car, or the morning he kidnapped us, or the time he sent me to the hospital and tried to..."

I quickly shot my mother a warning glare, stopping her words in their tracks.

"I'm sorry. But that is exactly the point that I'm trying to make. How can you forget something that affected your life so much that you can't even mention it? It's not that simple."

My argument was quickly going downhill, but I was determined not to spend my morning sitting through a humiliating therapy session.

"I haven't pulled out any of my hair since the other day. It was just a short phase. I'm fine, Mama," I said while slowly backing out of the kitchen.

She studied me for a moment, then cocked a suspicious eyebrow at me.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes... I'm sure."

Suddenly, I found myself belting a loud gasp once a strong pair of hands gripped my shoulders. For a moment I stood frozen in place, fearing that my father had returned to get his revenge.

I was only reminded that it couldn't have been him once my mother cast a stern glare behind my back.

"You can't sneak up on her like you used to, Javier. You really scared her this time," my mother said to my older cousin.

Once I was able to recover, I quickly folded my arms and scoffed as if to prove that her claim was false.

"I wasn't scared."

"Really? Then why did you turn as white as a ghost the second he put his hands on you?"

Without an answer to prove my point, I only remained silent while my cousin wrapped his arms around me. I tried my best not to shudder in discomfort as he gently embraced me. To him, it was just an innocent hug, but to me it was a sign that he wanted me.

"I'm sorry, _Primita. _I won't do it again if it really bothers you, okay?"

Without a word, I nodded and slowly removed his arms from around my waist.

Clearly, my reaction was enough to inspire a final decision from my mother.

"You're going and that's final," she said firmly.

"Where are you guys going?" Javier asked as he rummaged through the refrigerator.

"I want to take Leah to see a therapist today. She doesn't think that it's necessary, but me and everyone else in this house thinks otherwise. It's not healthy for her to keep her emotions so bottled up."

"Gabi's right, Leah. Besides, it's not as bad as you think it is. I've been going with Sofía to her sessions for as long as I can remember. Sure, it might be awkward talking to a stranger about your personal life, and it may take a while to open up, but you'd be surprised how much better you'll feel after the first session. If Sofía can do it, then you can definitely do it."

My cousin's words of encouragement were enough for me to consider the benefits of going to a therapist. I hated the feeling of keeping those nagging thoughts to myself for weeks on end only to suffer an occasional breakdown because of the unrelenting pressure. Although a big part of me wanted to keep those emotions inside, I knew that I would not make any progress by keeping quiet about my traumatic experiences.

I knew that it pained my mother to see me in distress, so that morning I decided that I would attend the therapy session for her. She deserved more happiness than anyone else I had ever known. It was the least I could have done considering the way I'd treated her some days ago.

"Fine, I'll go," I murmured in defeat.

"That's my girl. Now cheer up. I hate to see you with a frown on your face," my mother said.

Amidst my downcast mood, I managed a gentle smile for her while she lovingly smoothed my hair. If there was someone who knew how to brighten my day the most, it was my mother.

Perhaps I needed to think positively and focus on recovering emotionally rather than letting the remnants of the past year consume my life. I especially wanted things to be somewhat normal again before my first year of high school. If I entered the place showing the slightest sign of weakness, then the upperclassman would surely eat me alive.

What other place on earth could possibly be worse than high school?

**~WYLS~ **

Admitting that I was wrong was something that I never liked doing, but I had to accept the truth once I came to find out that therapy wasn't as bad as I made it out to be.

The therapist whom I had met with was a kind, patient and understanding woman. I even began to warm up to her quicker than I had expected after we became well-acquainted. During the first half of the session, she encouraged me to recall everything that happened within the past year. Although I usually did not like talking about those experiences, she managed to make me feel comfortable in a way that motivated me to speak.

After listening to both me and my mother's stories, she sent her out of the room and asked me a few personal questions. That was when I began to grow uneasy.

"How would you describe yourself before this experience and after?"

"Well, before last year, I was like other girls my age. I wanted to be noticed, I wanted my independence, and I was crazy about boys. I just wanted to have a normal, fulfilling teenage life right after my thirteenth birthday, and I was too eager to grow up. That was the problem: I was too naïve," I said truthfully.

"Hmm. And what about now?"

Before I could open my mouth to speak, I paused once I realized that I couldn't think of anything to describe myself; especially after the past year.

"I... don't know. I'm more emotional, I guess. And I scare easily because I'm always on edge. I also don't trust people as quickly as I used to, not without knowing if they're capable of hurting me. I've noticed that I'm not that expressive anymore. Whatever emotion I'm feeling at the moment, I don't show it. I keep it inside."

"Why do you keep your feelings inside?"

"It's hard to explain. If I show any kind of emotion, especially fear or sadness, I don't want people to know because I'm afraid that they'll think I'm weak. But I hate keeping my feelings inside. I feel like a robot sometimes. Sometimes when I get tired of holding back my emotions, all of that bottled-up stress builds up inside of me until I have a meltdown. That's what happened to me the other day."

"What happened the other day?" the therapist questioned.

"Well, it's kind of a long story. For at least a week I was pulling my hair out, and lots of it. I didn't want my mother to know because I knew how concerned she would be. I didn't think that it was a big deal. But then one night, I yelled at her after she tried talking to me, and I immediately felt guilty about it. Then, even later that night, she thought that I was sleeping when I really wasn't. I knew that I hurt her feelings because she started crying, and I wanted to turn around and apologize but I was also hurt because she said, 'Not you, too.'"

"What do you think she meant by that?"

"At first, I assumed that she thought that I was going to end up becoming a drug addict like my father. The truth was, she was terrified of losing me like she lost him. The next day when she told me that she loved me, that was it for me. I was angry because I knew that she was hurt because of me. Knowing that I was responsible for hurting her made me feel terrible, and all of that pent-up frustration just caused me to break down. I started pulling my hair because I wanted to put myself through pain," I explained.

"Why would you want to do such a thing?"

"Because, I thought that I deserved it for making her life even more miserable than it already was. She always tells me that it's not my fault that my father treated us so badly, but I think that it is my fault."

"Why?"

"I was horrible. I used to rebel and overreact whenever I couldn't have my way. My parents did so much to give me a good life, and I thanked them by making them worry about me constantly. There was one time when this older guy invited me to a party at his friend's house. Just because my father told me to stay away from boys, I purposefully met up with the guy anyway. I decided that he couldn't tell me what to do, because it was my life and I was in charge of it. When I got to the party, it was obvious that it wasn't a regular party. People were drinking and getting high and having sex right out in the open. I was scared because I was usually told to stay away from people like that, but I wanted to get to know the guy more because I knew that he liked me. I was even excited to have my first kiss. He took me into one of the bedrooms and we talked for a while. Then we started kissing, and things were moving fast between us. Before I knew it, his hand was up my skirt. But I didn't want him to stop. It felt so good that I suddenly wanted to lose my virginity to this guy who I'd known for less than a day. I didn't realize that my parents soon found out where I was, and they found me before we could go any further. Sure, my mother was furious, but my dad..."

"What about him?" the therapist asked.

"I had never seen him so disappointed in me. It wasn't the first time I disappointed him, but that night, I knew that I really screwed up. The way he looked at me was awful. He looked at me like he ever regretted having me. It was like I wasn't his daughter anymore. He trusted me and I ruined that because I wanted to feel like a normal teenage girl. He never did anything to hurt me before, so why did he deserve to get hurt by me? I lied to him and I was selfish. That's why I think that it was my fault. I got what I deserved for being such a terrible daughter."

As memory of that night resurfaced, I found myself unable to hold back the tears. The therapist offered me a box of tissues to use and allowed me to cry for a few minutes. I was relieved that my mother was not in the room, because I knew how much it would break her heart to listen to me blame myself for the situation that we were in.

Soon, the woman leaned forward and placed her hand over mine.

"It really isn't your fault, Leah. You are not responsible for the poor choices that your parent makes. Whatever decision that they make is on them, not you. Do you understand that?" she asked me gently.

"If any of this isn't my fault, then why did my father blame me for making his life miserable? Why did he make me think that way?"

"The answer is simple, Leah. The only reason that your father blamed you for this whole situation is because he doesn't want to take responsibility for his actions. He doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that he made a mistake by choosing to take drugs and hurting you and your mother."

"And how do you know that?" I questioned skeptically.

"Because, he is the one who has to spend the next twenty years locked up in jail. Not you," she said.

She saw that I was still unconvinced as I responded with a wary shrug.

"But I'm the one who feels guilty..."

As I gazed insecurely at my feet, the therapist reached out and rubbed my upper arm in hopes of comforting me. However, when I shrunk away in discomfort, she immediately took notice.

"Do you always feel this uncomfortable when someone touches you?"

"Yes," I murmured in embarrassment.

"Why is that?"

A brief chill raced up my spine once I mentally recalled all the times that I had been touched or groped by my father. What used to be a loving gesture had been transformed into a lustful game in his eyes. As a child, his hugs were warm, gentle and promising. After he'd turned his sexual appetite onto me, he only hugged me just to whisper his sick desires into my ear as his raunchy hands wandered along the contours of my body.

Because of him, I feared that every touch, especially from a man, was a sexual advance towards me. If my own father was capable of taking advantage of me, then my older cousin Javier was no different.

"Because he touched me before."

"Name all the places your father has sexually touched you."

"Well... He used to touch my arms, my legs and my face."

"Did he touch you anywhere else?"

"Um, one time he grabbed my breasts and my bottom," I murmured discreetly.

"He never touched your private area?"

"Actually, no. He never did. I thought that it was strange because he touched me everywhere else. He tried to rape me before, but he never touched me there."

"What kind of touching makes you uncomfortable?" she asked.

"All kinds. Probably except for handshakes. Hugs are the worst for me because my dad used to use that as an excuse to grope me. I never told my mother about it, so she has no idea. She's the only person who doesn't make me feel uncomfortable when touching me."

"Do you think that your mother is capable of hurting you?"

"No."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"I know her better than anyone else I've ever known, and she will _never_ hurt me because she loves me too much to do that to me," I said firmly.

"What is something else that makes you uncomfortable?"

"Eye contact. I have trouble looking into people's eyes because..."

"Because what?"

The tears had quickly returned, and this time, they fell without reservation. The therapist then grabbed a handful of tissues and promptly offered them to me.

"The reason I can't look into people's eyes is because my dad wouldn't let me look away when he was raping my mom. He didn't care what I was seeing, or what he was doing to her. All that mattered to him was showing me what he wanted to do to me," I whimpered.

The more those traumatic images flashed throughout my mind, the more I sobbed uncontrollably. Suddenly, I wanted to know where my mother was. I wanted to know if she was safe and not being violated or beaten. As long as she was around, I knew that my nightmares would fade away.

Amazingly, the therapist sensed that I was unable to recover, and didn't bother to ask me if I wanted to see my mother. She already knew.

Once the door swung open, my tearful gaze met her worried one, and she surged into the room without hesitation.

"It's okay, _mija. _I'm right here; I'm not going to leave you," she reassured me as she held me against her chest.

"Promise?"

"Have I ever broken a promise to you before?"

She continued to wipe my tears away while I shook my head in silence.

"Never," I exhaled.

If only she knew how safe I felt in her arms, she would know just how badly I wanted to stay in her embrace forever. I was convinced that no one would ever know how gratifying it was to be the daughter of such a remarkable person unless they walked a mile in my shoes.

Knowing that only I was worthy of receiving her motherly love was going to help me make a quicker recovery than I once thought.

**~WYLS~**

**Troy**

Nothing could convince me that there was a place that was worse than prison. I had come to that conclusion the moment I'd awoken in a hospital bed, covered from head to toe in cuts and bruises. No longer did I wonder what I had done to deserve such punishment.

I knew that I deserved it.

The inmates treated me exactly the way I was supposed to be treated: like a cruel, sick, inhumane beast. From then on I was destined to be excluded and undeserving; lower than maggots and the other scavengers that burrowed beneath the dirt. I was nothing.

Instead of holding a grudge about my "initiation", I decided that it was better to be seen and not heard. As for the fulfilling life I once shared with my wife and daughter, I didn't fully know how good I had it until it was gone.

On my second night in jail, a few of the new inmates including me were gathered into an office near the visitor's ward. We were soon escorted into a small, adjacent room that contained several chairs. They then instructed us to arrange the chairs into a circle.

That was when a woman and a bulky security guard entered and told us to have a seat. Not knowing what to expect, I complied with their orders while the other wardens took their places in the corners of the room.

"If you are wondering why you are here tonight, allow me to introduce Dr. Shayna Humphreys. She is our very own counselor here at the penitentiary, and she conducts weekly group therapy sessions for inmates who may want to get something off of their chest, or who just want to talk. No one is required to talk, but it is recommended. For those of you who don't feel like opening up justice yet, just say 'Pass,'" the security guard explained before extending his arm towards the woman.

"Thank you, Mateo. Good evening, everyone. How are we tonight?" she inquired gently.

While most murmured their response, others uttered a disinterested hum.

"Well, why don't I explain a little more about myself and what I do here? I have been studying psychology for about ten years, and I used to work with underprivileged children in foster homes and inner-city schools. It was not until three years ago that I was inspired to reach out to inmates who were in need of advice as well as support. My job here is to simply encourage inmates to talk about their feelings about whatever they're going through instead of keeping it in and letting all that emotion become bottled up. It's very unhealthy, especially in this environment. I also provide therapy sessions to individual inmates who I think may need as much as my attention as possible. The group session was designed to boost an inmate's confidence while the others listen and try to understand what he is feeling rather than assuming that he's okay. Although not everyone gets along during the sessions, inmates leave with a newfound respect for one another. I am proud to say that my program has helped over 1000 inmates so far, and we hope to double that by next year... So, who would like to start first?"

As I had expected, no one was eager to raise his hand. Unfazed by our unwillingness to speak, Shayna seemed to have a backup plan in motion.

"Don't worry, this happens all the time. That is why I brought a special guest with me today," she said before gesturing towards the door.

When I glanced over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of who it was, a chill raced up my spine as I recognized the person. Standing in the doorway was a member of Marcelo's group. Almost immediately, I recalled him being the same man who delivered the first punishing blow on command.

Hoping to make it through the session unseen, I tugged the collar of my jumpsuit and used it to cover the lower half of my face.

Shayna then allowed him to begin with a hinting nod of her head.

"My name is Felipe but people around here know me as Flex. So far I've been incarcerated for five and a half years on charges of gang violence, drug possession and homicide. Basically I just want to tell you that part of the reason I still have my sanity is because of Shayna. She can get anyone to talk no matter how tough they think they are. She doesn't care who I am or what I did to end up here. All she cares about is helping people like me get through their sentence and hopefully turn their lives around," he said before sending the counselor a smile.

"Let me just say that all the messed up shit I did was never worth it. At the time, I thought that I was invincible. No one could touch me. That's why I was out on the corner every weekend selling all kinds of drugs: Meth, PCP, LSD, Coke, Heroin—whatever you can think of, I sold it. The thing about feeling invincible is that you think that nothing can bring you down; not even the law. That's why I thought I could get away with killing a guy who was trying to sell in my neighborhood. I could care less that he was someone's son, or brother, or father. All I cared about was making as much money as possible. Look at what my selfishness got me... No family, no life; no freedom. I got nothing but thirty to life and there's nothing that I can do to change that. Prison is no joke, man. Look, if I could go back and change what I did that day—no—if I could go back and change the day I decided to join a gang, I would do it in a heartbeat. But since I can't change the mistakes I've made, I decided to take a lesson from what I've done and use it to tell newbies like you that it's not worth throwing your life away. Take it from me; it's not worth it. Obviously, it's too late for all of you, but if you talk to Shayna and let her know what's up with you, she will help you survive in this joint. You know what I'm saying? You don't have to start now, but you gotta start some time."

Pleased by Felipe's speech, Shayna rewarded him with a gracious smile and briefly applauded him.

"Thank you very much for sharing your story, Felipe. Mateo will escort you back to your cell. Would you guys believe that he refused to open up to me just a few months ago? It took him three years to finally tell me what was on his mind. If you're not ready to speak to me, that's okay. Take as much time as you need. If you don't have anything to say during a session, just say 'pass' and keep saying it if you don't feel comfortable enough to speak yet."

With nothing further to add, the counselor leaned back in her chair and patiently waited for someone to speak up.

After a few minutes of silence passed, I doubted that anyone would open their mouth to speak. No sooner than that was I quickly proven wrong once a younger inmate slowly raised his hand. Eventually, more began to raise their hands, speak up and share their stories.

There was so much that I had learned that night, so much about my fellow inmates in a few hours. Several times I found myself growing inspired to share my own story. However, once more than half of the group had spoken, and I was expected to share, I found myself slamming on the brakes. I didn't know why I suddenly did not want to talk.

Perhaps it was because the old wounds from my obscure past had opened up for the first time in fifteen years.

Instead of letting the remnants of those memories rattle my stony façade, I simply sat back in my chair and said, "Pass."

Shayna the counselor did not seem very surprised. A few times during the session, I caught her observing me in silence. It was clear that she saw something in me that was different to the other inmates.

I feared that my decision to keep quiet would compel her to challenge me. But to my relief, the corners of her mouth gently rose to a warm smile.

"That's okay," she said before moving onto someone else. "Anyone else? Yes, you may go ahead."

On the other hand, she probably was going to challenge me. She seemed like a clever woman. I sensed that she would allow me to pass up my opportunity to speak every week until my emotions would start to eat away at me. Then, when the time was right, she was going to pounce and break me down until I spilled my guts to her and reveal what caused my life to amount to what it was.

That woman could challenge me for as long as possible; longer than the three years she spent trying to get through to Felipe. From then on I vowed never to speak up for as long as I was locked up in that prison.

If my own family would never uncover my dark secret, then she certainly wouldn't.

**This is the part where I'm going to leave you guys to wonder what might have happened in Troy's past. Did he abuse his wife and daughter simply because he was addicted to drugs and alcohol, or did something from his past return to haunt him? Please leave me your predictions and comments and I will hopefully be back very soon. Thanks for reading! :)**


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